


Cast Upon the Stones

by Nurdles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Erotica, F/M, First Time, Married Sex, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virginity, hot fighting action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nurdles/pseuds/Nurdles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne looked into Jaime’s eyes and saw that this was no game he was playing with her; he meant to win, no matter what. His grin was fearsome and leonine and seductive; Brienne’s heart stuttered in her chest and she managed to back away from him and bring her sword out in front of her.</p>
<p>In which Brienne loses her maidenhood to someone other than Jaime. Mature rating - if you don't like gentle smut you may want to mosey on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne rode past the latest endless, monotonous stand of trees along the road and saw the inn ahead. The last of the sunlight glanced golden off its peaked roof, leaving the lower floors dark. She hoped this inn was not abandoned, but the darkness of the building was no indication. It was early yet to light the tallows in most places, and the innkeepers would no doubt work in the low light as long as possible before using their stock of candles. She hoped that if they were beef tallow candles that at least the innkeep believed in perfuming them with lavender, or even rosemary. Brienne discerned movement by the stable, fleeting shadows in the small front window, and some chickens desultorily pecking at the ground before seeking the safety of the trees for the night. Was it too much to hope there would be eggs available in the morning? She was very tired of dried salt pork and rock hard bread day after day.

Brienne herself was just tired, right down to the bone. She had been traveling for a long while, with no true destination. The countryside had settled down and she had given in to an urge to simply see the sights, to spend some time in no company other than her own. She would stop for a meal at a tavern or stay at an inn anytime she saw one on the road. An inn did not have to be occupied to be of use to her, for if it wasn't she coaxed her horse inside with her and barred the door behind them. Deserted homesteads and inns offered protection from the elements and some cover from other travelers, though they seldom had any comforts beyond a hard bed and a working well; the food stores were always ransacked or rotten. If Brienne could avoid sleeping out of doors she did; one did not rest well with one eye open to watch for thieves or cutthroats. Her horse was a good companion, quick to alert her if he sensed danger, but he needed his sleep as well. The two of them were worn out, and the chance of passing the night in a safe place made even the prospect of having to deal with other people not so onerous as usual.

As she came closer to the inn Brienne saw a lone figure standing near the stables, and the last of the sun caught a bit of his hair that had lifted in the breeze, making it glow with gold and red. For a second she was reminded of Jaime, and the dull ache of missing him added to her weariness. They had parted nigh on a year ago, after they had escorted Lady Sansa to the wall and left her in the care of her half-brother Jon. Brienne and Jaime had traveled together for several months as they worked together to find, rescue and return the girl to safety. Sansa could not be restored to her former place as Lady Catelyn might have wished as she was carrying Petyr Baelish’s bastard in her belly and Winterfell was still held by the Boltons, but she was alive. Brienne knew she was strong, like her mother, and with her resilience and Jon’s protection she and her child would eventually carve out a decent life. Brienne and Jaime had parted at the halfway point back to King’s Landing, he to return to his duties with the Kingsguard, she presumably to return to Tarth.

By now she had reached the yard, and the man by the stables had not moved. He almost seemed to be waiting for her. He was nearly completely silhouetted now with the sun behind him, and his shadow reached nearly to the feet of Brienne’s horse. Was he a groom, at an inn this humble? He watched her halt the horse and dismount. Then a voice she knew too well said her name. Not “Wench,” but “Brienne,” And she found herself face to face with Jaime Lannister.

Her throat seemed to close up and it was several long heartbeats before she was able to say his name, and then her words tumbled out, her voice cracking from long disuse. “Ser Jaime. I…I am surprised to find you here, at such an obscure inn. How came you to be here?” She stuttered out.

“I do not get a ‘hello, well met,’ from you, Brienne?” he asked with a little smile at her discomfiture.

“Hello, Ser.” She said dutifully, “How came you to be here?”

Jaime laughed briefly, “You have not changed, Wench. To the point, a little suspicious, though your voice seems a little strained. Has anyone else tried to hang you lately?”

Brienne could not help raising her hand to her throat, where the scars of Lady Stoneheart’s noose were barely visible. “I am but surprised to see you, and have been on the road for many days with only my horse to speak to. I’m afraid my skill at conversation is even more dismal than usual.”

“I’m happy to see _you_ , Wench,” he said, stepping forward and embracing her in a gentle hug. “Tell me you are glad to see me?” he asked, a little hopefully.

“I am always glad to see you, Ser Jaime.” She said dully.

“Joyful indeed,” Jaime said a little sarcastically, “Could you at least drop the ‘Ser’ and just call me ‘Jaime?’”

“Jaime,” she said dutifully, then with more warmth, “I am happy to see you Jaime, it is only that I am a little surprised to have come upon you here.”

“Let’s get your horse taken care of. We can put him in the stall next to mine; they must have a lot to talk about since they parted.” Jaime said, reaching for her horse’s bridle. “Then we will go share a hot meal and catch up ourselves.” Jaime tried to read her face in the gloom, “Come Wench, what has got you so down?”

Brienne did not bother with a reply, only followed him into the stable and watched as he relieved the horse of its burdens and then wiped him down well with a twisp of straw. He finished by forking fresh-smelling hay into the food trough.

Jaime tried not to show how troubled he was by Brienne’s cheerlessness, but he was having difficulty keeping up his usual chatter in the face of her melancholy silence. They walked side by side to the inn, and Jaime opened the door for her. She glanced at him before entering, but did not object to his chivalry. Within the main room the tallows had been lit (beef, and a little stinky) and the innkeeps were bustling around getting things ready for their few patrons. At sight of Jaime the innkeep’s wife dimpled and she said “Ser Jaime! Your guest has arrived, I see. Shall I set out your dinner?”

“Yes, thank you, Jenna,” Jaime said, giving her one of his charming smiles.

“Guest?” asked Brienne with a sharp look at him.

“Are you not a guest here?” asked Jaime lightly, and led her to a table near the hearth, which crackled cheerfully.

“But – “

“And you _are_ going to be _my_ guest for dinner, are you not?” he said quickly, gesturing in the air with his steel hand as the serving wench passed by. “Will you have some ale, my lady?” he asked, “or would you prefer wine? I can ask what vintages they have, though I would not get your hopes up for anything fine.”

“Ale, perhaps with some water in it, thank you.” Brienne said, leaving the question of the curious greeting he had received from Jenna for later.

“I am assured the meat is fresh, and I have been smelling bread baking since I arrived this afternoon.” Jaime told her.

“So you have only just arrived yourself?” asked Brienne, raising her pale eyebrows, “Do you know the innkeeps then? They certainly seem to know you.”

“I have not met them before today, no, but they seem like nice folk.”

“What _does_ bring you here, Jaime?” asked Brienne again with a frown.

“Maybe I was just looking for the Maid of Tarth and I heard you were headed this way.” Jaime told her with a small smile. Brienne glanced at him briefly and looked away. For several moments she was silent, and when the ale arrived she took a drink, and then another, and still did not speak.

“’Looking for the Maid of Tarth,’” Brienne muttered, “please call me ‘Brienne’, or even ‘Wench,’ if you must, Jaime.”

“Brienne,” Jaime said, reaching for one of her hands with his left one, “What is the matter, Brienne? What has brought you so low? And what is so wrong with being called the ‘Maid of Tarth’? Has something happened to you?” Jaime swallowed thickly, “Please speak to me, Brienne. You will barely look at me, and your spirits are so low that I am afraid of tripping over them.”

“My spirits are fine, Jaime.” Brienne told him, “But I no longer claim the title ‘Maid of Tarth’, if you must know.”

Jaime’s eyes darkened and he lifted his hand to hold her chin up, willing her eyes to rise and look into his. “Are you no longer a maid, then, Brienne? Or did you just grow tired of being called one?” Concern drew down his brows and he looked truly fierce.

“I am no longer a maid, Jaime.” She told him simply, finally looking into his eyes, but without a hint of emotion to give away her thoughts. Their dinner arrived then and Jaime released Brienne’s chin and sat back so the portly innkeep could set the plates down.

“There you are m’lady, Ser,” He said with a small bow. “I hope you find it to your liking. The wife has taken special care with her cooking this evening. I don’t think she’s burned anything at all.” He laughed loudly at his own jest and Jaime smiled widely, though Brienne could see how forced it was. The innkeep strode away, pleased with himself.

Brienne reached over and tore Jaime’s bread in half without even thinking about it. She picked up her own bread and held it, but seemed not to remember what to do with it.

“Wench,” Jaime said in an undertone, “were you raped? Is that why you are so downtrodden? By the seven, Brienne, I will kill whoever dared to touch you!”

“I was not raped, Jaime.” Brienne told him calmly, realizing she had been picking apart the bread in her hand and a pile of crumbs was soaking into the gravy that covered her meat. “But I appreciate your, um, concern.”

“You fell in love.” Jaime stated, looking if anything more distressed than he had been over a possible rape. “Tell me your heart hasn’t been broken by some knave. Or are you still in love with him, and being apart is what makes you so sad?” Jaime sat back, defeated, and drank his ale down in one swallow. He stared down at his food, and stirred it with his knife.

“No and no, Jaime.” Brienne told him.

“Talk to me, Wench,” Jaime said through a clenched jaw, “your half answers and riddles aggravate me. And don’t tell me it is none of my business, for we are not nothing to each other, you and I, no matter what has befallen us when were apart.”

“Is this really the place, Ser?” Brienne said evasively.

“Innkeep?” Jaime called out, and Jenna came bustling over.

“Is their aught amiss, Ser?” she asked anxiously, her cheeks reddening in concern, “I swear I tried not to burn anything tonight! Is the gravy too salty? The meat too tough? The goat was fresh slaughtered and roasted to a turn, you know.”

Jaime and Brienne smiled at each other, a glimmer of their old rapport as they thought of Vargo Hoat, who had been called ‘the Goat’ by all.

“No, everything is perfect, Jenna. But my lady is tired from her journey. Is our room ready?”

“Oh, yes, Ser, your bags have been brought up, and if you’ll just give us a moment Ser I’ll have one of my sons fetch the lady’s up as well.”

“Jaime,” Brienne began, but Jaime spoke over her.

“Yes, thank you, Jenna. And perhaps a bath could be prepared later?”

“Indeed Ser,” she said and dropped an unpracticed curtsey, then hustled away calling “Rolf! Bags!”

“Wine,” said Brienne, “ask them for a flagon of wine.”

“White or red?” Jaime asked.

“Red, please.” Brienne told him. “Should I not bespeak my own room? They have assumed that we are together.”

“We are together, Wench. And for now I will not let you out of my sight, so do not even think to try.” Brienne gave him a wan smile at first, and then her lips turned up just a bit and she ducked her head shyly.

“I have missed you, Jaime. I honestly have.”

The two left their uneaten meal and climbed the ladder to the floor which housed the inn’s guest rooms. The ceilings were low and slanted, and the tallow burning on the windowsill seemed to cast more shadows than light. Jaime went to the last room in the row and opened the door onto a surprisingly cozy space with a raised platform covered with a generously stuffed mattress. A thick blanket was folded at the foot of the bed, and two flat pillows rested at the top. One chair, a small night stand and a primitive chest of drawers with several candles burning on top competed with the bed for space.

Jaime shrugged his cloak off and hung it on a hook attached to the closed door. He held his hand out for Brienne’s and she handed him her cloak to hang. “Take your boots off and stay a while,” Jaime said with a smile, making a flourish at the room with his arm, as though to show her something very grand. Brienne smiled a little and sat down on the bed to kick off her boots. Jaime took the chair next to the bed and did the same.

“Lie down, if you like, Wench. I know you must be exhausted.” Jaime told her. Brienne shook her head but raised her long legs up on the bed and curled them under her, resting her shoulder against the headboard. There was a knock on the door and they both alertly turned to look. “Come,” called Jaime, and Jenna came in with their wine and two cups. She tried to pour for them but Jaime thanked her kindly and told her he would pour for them in a moment. Jenna backed out the door, smiling at them all the while.

Jaime filled a cup of wine for each of them and set them on the night stand. Brienne reached out and took hers. She took a sip, nodded her head, and then sat cradling the cup in her hands. Jaime leaned forward and put his elbows on his thighs and looked at Brienne; his eyes took in every inch of her and even then seemed not to have had their fill.

“Now tell me, and do not leave anything out, what has happened to you.” He said in a tone that told her he would not be put off.

“Where shall I start?” Asked Brienne, and took a long drink of her wine, “you will surely be asleep before I have told you every detail of even my first week since we parted.”

“You know what I mean, Wench. I would have of you the story of why you are so sad, and why you are no longer a maid.”

“Which would you like to hear first?” She asked, peering into her cup and swirling the wine that was left in it. Jaime refilled it from the flagon and dashed a little more into his own cup as well.

“They are not one and same?” Jaime asked in some surprise.

“No,” said Brienne simply and leaned her head back against the wall, the column of her throat looked achingly vulnerable to Jaime and much as he wanted to reach out to touch some part of her he was afraid she would not allow it. There seemed a tender truce between them now, and he did not want to set her back on her guard.

“If you don’t mind then, tell me how you come to be no longer a maid.” He said gently, and took a long drink of his own wine. The wine was lightly spiced and mellow on his tongue. Setting his cup on the night stand, he leaned forward again, his real and his steel hand dangling between his knees.

Brienne slid down a little on the bed, half prone on her side, but did not take her eyes from Jaime’s face. She began to speak in a steady voice: “You once told me about a dagger you had, a fine piece of steel with a hilt studded with tiny rubies. It was a gift from an aunt, I believe? Do you remember what happened to that dagger?” she asked.

Jamie looked puzzled, “I do. It’s in my saddle bags. Why?”

“I recall you told me once that the dagger was so fine, and so precious to you, that for a long time you just kept it in its scabbard hung upon the wall, for fear of damaging it in some way. And then one day you just took it out of that scabbard and out of your rooms and threw it as hard as you could against the stones and watched it skitter across the courtyard.” Brienne said, “And once that dagger’s hilt was scuffed and the blade less pristine you were able to get over the need to protect it from harm.”

Jaime nodded; it was something he still did when he found himself too concerned with protecting a thing to the point that it lost its purpose. He would make sure the shiny new armor was dented in practice bouts, the shield’s fine painted design marred by sword blows, the chased silver saddle broken in with the wildest horse he could find.

“My maidenhood was like that to me.” Brienne told him, her face serious, willing him to understand, “A thing that I was told was of such value that I had to protect it at all costs. I had to protect it from the wagers of men who wanted to take something that was important to me, I had to protect it from men who wanted to rip it from me in violence and hateful lust; I had to protect it so that I could come to my marriage bed and offer it, _offer it_! To some man who only valued it because when he had taken it away from me I would be his, to use as he saw fit. _He_ got to be the one to fling it against the stones of the courtyard and have the benefit of continuing to use that which was no longer valuable to anyone else.” Brienne paused, taking a steadying breath, watching Jaime, who was looking at her intently.

“And why? The septas never tell this to the young maidens they teach, the girls they hobble by making them fear to lose something they can never regain, something that makes them worth something _with_ it, and worth _nothing_ without it.” Here Brienne paused, drank the rest of her wine and leaned toward Jaime, “I do not see men needing to protect their own virtue, quite the opposite. Tell me, Jaime, why does a man need to have a woman who has never been with another man? Are men so afraid a woman might have someone to compare him to? And don’t tell me it is to assure any children born of the union would be of the man’s line; you of all people know there is no guarantee of that.”

Brienne looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes now, “I threw it away, Jaime. Of what use was it to me that I should be always worried about protecting it? My honor did not lie in that fragile piece of skin, nor my innocence, which was torn away from me piece by piece in the Riverlands.”

“And yet you gave it to someone, willingly.” Jaime rasped, “Who was he, Brienne? Did he treat you well? Did he take care not to hurt you, to see that you enjoyed it as well as I am certain he did?”

Brienne laughed briefly, humorlessly, “Jaime, you are more naïve than I could have imagined, or more idealistic. Or maybe you are secretly romantic and have come to believe in knightly behavior against all evidence to the contrary.”

“Did he hurt you then, Brienne? Whoever it was, I will kill him if he hurt you.” Jaime’s voice was low, and seemed angry.

“I did not _give_ my maidenhead to anybody, Jaime. I did not offer it up for some man to have the satisfaction of believing they were getting something of me.”

“But you said that you were no longer a maid,”

“And that is the truth.” Brienne said now, setting her empty cup on the stand, “I did not tell the man what he would be ridding me of. He never suspected it was anything but a fuck between strangers in a nameless tavern. I was gone before morning, and he was too drunk to remember much. But not so drunk he could not do the one thing I wanted from him.”

Jaime looked unutterably sad, “Would that it had been me, instead,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Would you have taken my maidenhead from me? I don’t think you would have been willing to so ‘dishonour’ me, Ser.” Brienne shook her head to answer for him, “You would not have asked, and I would not have offered. And what if I _had_ offered it and you had refused? Whether out of respect or revulsion, I could not have lived with it. _Not from you_.” She whispered.

“And if I had asked?”

“It would have been yours to cast upon the stones, and I would have been well rid of it.”

Jaime rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, shoulders slumped. Finally, he looked back up at her, “Gods, Brienne, has your heart hardened so since I saw you last? How can you think it would be nothing to me, to give me your trust and let it be me to make you happy? How could I ever see your first experience of love as a simple bauble to crush so that I need never worry about hurting it again?”

Brienne’s eyes were pricking with tears, for all her brave words that none of it mattered. “You do not need to feel bad for me, Ser,” she said, and Jaime was suddenly on his knees beside the bed, pulling her to him, holding her tightly in his arms.

“Oh, Wench, I do not know who I feel worse for, you or me.” He whispered into her ear and reached up with his hand to cup the back of her head and then to stroke her hair.

Brienne gave a little hiccupping laugh “I assure you ser, you did not miss much.”

“Then maybe it is you who missed out,” he japed, but his voice lacked the lightness of humor and his heart beat against her as though he had been running a long way, “Brienne,” he said in a slightly broken voice, “Oh, Brienne. I am so sorry. I did not know. All the times I was with you and wanted you so badly, and did nothing, _nothing_.” He put his hands on the sides of her head and shifted her so that her forehead was pressed to his, but her eyes were closed and she was shuttered to him. “Brienne, how many times I have thought of you over the past year, and each thought was a like a lash on my heart. And each time I touched myself I was thinking of you, and imagining what we would be to each other, if only – “

“If only what?” she said then, opening her eyes to look into his, still guarded, still disbelieving.

“If only you would have me, Wench. And now you tell me I need only have asked.”

The tears Brienne had repressed stung and overflowed, and she pulled out of Jaime’s arms. Jamie reached out with his left hand and wiped a tear from her cheek, and then another. “Do you still say it was nothing?” he asked, and Brienne nodded, reaching up to wipe her traitorous tears on her sleeve.

“It is only that I am tired, Ser. I have been riding since before the sun was up.”

“And you did not think to encounter me,” Jaime said, “but you have. Did you really miss me, Wench? Tell me you never thought of me while we were apart. You were never far from my thoughts.”

“I wondered if you were well. I was pleased to see you.” Brienne said stiffly.

“Do you hate me so much that you deny me even a tiny bit of gladness in my company? Do you not wonder why I am here?”

“Why you are here?” Brienne asked, “At first I thought we had just chance met on the road, as acquaintances do, but the innkeeps, the room?”

“I have been seeking you for a long while, Brienne. I feared to have lost your trail forever, and when I sent ravens to you at Tarth they sent word back that you never came home. I kept asking, kept sending those damn ravens, and each time the answer was the same.  So when I finally had word of an enormously tall warrior maiden riding along the Ashtree road I made haste to meet you here.”

“And why would you be seeking me?” Brienne asked, “Is there some quest to undertake? Have you come to reclaim Oathkeeper now that both Stark girls have been found? It is yours; it always has been. I would have sent it to you, I did plan to send it to you in truth, but the last word I had of you was that the Kingsguard had been disbanded. I was not sure whether to send it to King’s Landing or Casterly Rock.”

“A couple of ravens might have gotten you an answer about where to find me. Word of the Kingslayer always spreads like wildfire.” Jaime said, watching her. “Would you truly have sent Oathkeeper back without coming to cast it at my feet yourself? It was a gift, my lady, and you would be so craven as to not look upon my face as you rejected it?” Jaime’s face had reddened, and his voice was harsh.

“You would have the sword back, what matter if I did not bring it myself?”

Jaime rose from his knees and sat on the bed next to Brienne. He took a steadying breath, “I gave Oathkeeper to _you_. It was a gift that I had hoped meant something to you. Returning it would wound me enough, but to not come yourself? To not face me and give me your reasons for staying away? It would be cruel as well as craven, and I have never known you to be either of those things.” Jaime stared at her, waiting for some explanation from Brienne, who looked back at him in defiance.

“I still do not understand, Jaime. I don’t know why you call me cruel, and I don’t know why you’ve gone to so much trouble to find me.” Brienne finally said, her gaze dropping from his miserably.

“Brienne,” Jaime sighed, leaning toward her on the bed, “you pigheaded, ornery, willful, _Wench_!” His voice had risen a little, but now it quieted almost to the point of a whisper, “ _how can you not know that I love you_?” and he kissed her softy, pulling back after a few heartbeats to look into her deep blue eyes, wide and shining with unshed tears, gazing back at him in disbelief. Jaime waited, barely daring to breathe until she spoke.

“I...I think I love you, too.” And this time she met his lips tentatively with her own. Jaime laid her back on the bed and kissed her as he had always wanted to kiss her, his lips only leaving hers so he could look wonderingly into her eyes, finally seeing some of the sadness start to ease as she realized this was no dream come to torment her.

After a few moments of ever more passionate kisses Jaime sat up, “Wench, help me get this off.” He said, holding up his steel hand. Brienne gave a breathless laugh and helped him to undo the complicated series of straps that held it on. For a long while after that they lay on the bed, a tangle of entwined legs and arms, hands exploring each other’s bodies through their clothes, kissing and moving together, lost in each other, finally.

Jaime rose and moved between Brienne’s thighs, and she opened them wider for him, her long legs along his hips as he rubbed against her, the feel of his cock through their clothes making them both gasp as her hips rose to meet his and their bodies ground against each other again and again. Brienne’s head fell back, her lips parted and eyes closed, and Jaime kissed along her throat, making her cry out his name softly. Jaime moved his lips back to hers and, wrapping both arms around her, he rolled them so that Brienne was straddling him. She rocked her hips, moving against his cock, the sensation taking away her breath for a second, only to come back in a moan as she fell forward to claim his mouth again, sucking on his bottom lip before opening her mouth to his tongue.

There was a sudden loud knock at their door that startled them both, and they sprang apart. “What is it?” growled Jaime, propping himself on his elbows.

“Only your tub, Ser, that you requested?” Jenna’s voice carried through the door. Jaime rose from the bed, pulling his tunic down and trying to adjust his pants to mask his arousal. Brienne quickly sat in the chair and picked up an empty wine cup, blushing furiously and trying to look as though she had been there for hours. Jaime opened the door to Jenna, who had two boys behind her carrying a large tub between them. Jenna bustled in, directing the boys to place it in the little available space.

“Here it is, just like you wanted, Ser Jaime. I’m afraid all the smaller tubs were bespoke already this evening, so this big one will have to do,” she winked broadly at him, “I’ll send the boys up with buckets to fill it right away if you’re ready.”

“Yes, Jenna, thank you,” said Jaime, with an appraising look at the tub. It really was nearly big enough for two.

Jenna gave Brienne a dimpled smile, before turning back to Jaime again, and raising her eyebrows merrily. It was obvious the two of them were thoroughly disheveled, and there was little doubt that they hadn’t been just sitting and drinking wine. “I’ll send a fresh flagon of wine up, shall I? And tell the boys that after the tub is filled you’re not to be disturbed again until morning.” She looked at Brienne again, “I do hope you like eggs, m’lady, our hens lay some of the finest around.” And she backed out the door smiling broadly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me,” Jaime said, rising up so that his mouth was close to her ear, “did your drunken lover do that?” The huskiness of his whisper was nearly as arousing to Brienne as his kisses had been.
> 
> “He wasn't my ‘lover,’” she said, and her own voice sounded thick in her ears, “he was just a man.”
> 
>    
>  _ **Now entering mature territory with this second chapter. You have been warned to look away if your innocent little eyes do not want to be sullied by it.**_

As the door closed Jaime turned back to Brienne. She was still sitting upon the chair holding the empty cup, her eyes downcast, the passion of moments ago turned to wariness and doubt. Jaime crossed the room in a couple of strides and sat on the bed facing her. He reached over and lifted the wine cup from her unresisting hand and placed it on the nightstand, then put his left hand over hers. Jaime watched her until she finally raised her eyes to his. Brienne tried hard not to flinch away from the questioning look on his face.

“Oh, Wench. Don’t go hiding from me again. I meant it when I said 'I love you.'” Jaime quietly assured her “Can you trust me with your heart, Brienne, as you have so many times with your life?” Jaime paused, waiting for her to speak. Brienne drew in a shaky breath and seemed about to say something, but instead she dropped her gaze and only shook her head slightly. Jaime reached out and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, moving his hand under her chin, lifting her face to him, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

“My feelings are true, but It seems I am asking you to trust me with something you have not even truly given me.” Jaime said bitterly after waiting long minutes with no response from Brienne. He drew his hand back from her face and stood up. He went to the window, trying to look into the darkness but seeing only the two of them reflected there. “You did say that you only _think_ you love me,” he said, with his back still to her. “It seems I have given something of mine to you that you are not even sure you want.” In the window he could see her watching him, but the reflection was dim in the candlelight, and the depths of her eyes were hidden. Jaime turned to look at her, finding a hint of emotion in her eyes but he could not tell whether what he read there was despair or defiance. “You said your maidenhead would have been mine for the asking,” Jaime said, “but when I ask for your heart you tease me with just a glimpse of it and then you hide it away from me.”

“What have they to do with each other?” Brienne asked impatiently. “I gave up my maidenhood. It was a burden to protect what had lost all meaning to me. But do you really expect me to leave my heart unguarded? I have left it vulnerable before and paid the price. You know that I have. You once told me to go away inside to save myself when something was too terrible to be borne, but if I do not guard my heart I shall have nowhere inside to go away to. ” She stared up at him, defying him to refute her.

“You would protect it from someone who wants only to love you as you deserve to be loved. You have no faith in me, Brienne.” Jaime said sadly.

“Jaime, I…I just...” she said hesitantly, and stuttered to a stop.

There was another knock on the door. Jaime walked over and opened it for the innkeeper’s sons with their steaming buckets of water. Each boy carried in two which they dumped in the tub and then trotted out to get more. On their fourth trip up Jenna came with them carrying a new flagon of wine, a ball of soap, towels, and some fresh candles.

“Here’s your wine, then, and I brung you these tallows special. A traveler a year or so past bartered ‘em for a room.” She looked at Brienne with her eyes twinkling, “Seeing as Ser Jaime said you’d been apart for a while I thought they might be nice.” She handed over the wine and three tall beeswax candles in stoneware holders to Jaime and set the towels next to the tub with the soap ball on top. Jenna bobbed another little curtsy and went back out. Jaime shut and locked the door behind her. He set the wine on the nightstand and then went over to a beef tallow candle and lit each of the new tapers from it before blowing all of the old ones out. The beeswax smelled of honeysuckle and summer, and the light they gave seemed warmer, though they might have only been less smoky.

He turned back to Brienne, coming to some decision; the battle might be won through action where words had failed. Jaime looked down at Brienne in her chair and gave her a nonchalant grin. Brienne looked up at his smile and felt both relieved and suspicious. Jaime drained the dregs from his cup before filling both of theirs from the new flagon. He took a sip, swirled it around his mouth and nodded appreciatively. It seemed the innkeeps knew he was a man who would reward them well for their care and had quietly provided him with the best that they had stored away, a Dornish red that put the previous wine to shame.

“Here, hold these,” Jaime said, handing Brienne his cup and then picking up and holding out hers. She took them and Jaime put the flagon on the floor and then dragged the little nightstand single handed over by the tub. “Bring them here,” he told her and she rose and walked over, setting his down. She took a sip and continued to hold hers.

“Okay, Wench, it’s no Harrenhal, but it will have to do.” Jaime said, a sly smirk stealing across his face.

Brienne looked alarmed, “You’re not suggesting that we..?”

“I am,” Jaime said, “Now let’s get you out of those clothes. How long has it been since you’ve had a proper bath?”

“Jaime, I don’t, I mean, I, uh…you expect me to just take a bath with you? Just like that?”

“Wench, you gave your maidenhead to a drunken stranger. Do not pretend to shyness with me; it’s just a bath.” When Brienne still hesitated Jaime took the cup from her hand and set it on the stand next to the tub. “If you want it to be a warm bath then you will hurry up.” Jaime deftly unlooped her long belt with his left hand and before she could object he had put his hand and stump under the edges of her tunic and began lifting it.

“Jaime!” she protested, making an attempt to hold it down over her chest. Jaime stepped up close, his hands still under her tunic in the back, and kissed her. He began slowly with his lips on hers, and then moved on to kiss her jaw and down her neck. Brienne shivered at the sensation and Jaime took the opportunity to quickly pull her tunic up over her head. It was a little awkward with his stump and Brienne had to pull the tunic the rest of the way over her head.

“See,” he said, “I knew you wanted that off. “ He wrapped his arms around her waist and then lowered his mouth to her bared nipples, taking one in his mouth and rolling it in his lips before running the tip of his tongue over it. He could feel it as her knees began to tremble, and he moved on to the other nipple. Brienne’s breathing was becoming uneven, and her hands were halfheartedly pushing against Jaime’s broad shoulders. “Tell me,” Jaime said, rising up so that his mouth was close to her ear, “did your drunken lover do that?” The huskiness of his whisper was nearly as arousing to Brienne as his kisses had been.

“He wasn't my ‘lover,’” she said, and her own voice sounded thick in her ears, “he was just a man.”

Jaime moved on to the ragged scars the bear had left on her neck and collarbone, nuzzling and kissing them. “Did he ask about these,” he murmured, “did you tell him of the bear, my wench?”

“He did not see them,” Brienne muttered, becoming a little exasperated.

“Was it dark then? Surely he felt them? Caressed them?” Jaime was speaking right against her lips now, his hand buried in her hair. And then when she didn’t answer he pulled her mouth into a deep kiss, her lips opening to his and any resistance forgotten. After a long while Jaime pulled away and sank slowly to his knees, running his hand and his stump down her sides to her breeches where he used his teeth to grab the lace that held them at her waist and tugged, undoing the small bow there. He slid them slowly down her hips, leaving only her smallclothes behind.

Jaime pressed his forehead against the bare skin of Brienne’s taut belly and she moved her hands into his hair, cradling his head against her, bowing her own head to gaze down at him, her blue eyes dark as dusk with desire. He kissed her just above her smallclothes, where the hair that trailed down between her legs began. He looked up at her, the green of his eyes almost completely swallowed by the black, and Brienne saw the passion there, too. He kissed her thatch through the cloth and stood back up, reclaiming her mouth, their bodies pressed together so that Brienne could feel his cock hard against her stomach. Her bare nipples rubbed against the rich cloth of his tunic and the sensation was so intense that she raised her left leg along his thigh, pressing herself against him.

Jaime pulled back a little and looked at her, “Did you kiss him like this Brienne? Did he want you as badly as I want you?” and he dipped his head to her breasts again, kissing the skin between them before caressing a nipple gently with his stump, the ridges of scar tissue there rubbing against the hypersensitive skin. Her breath caught and she tried to strangle a gasp as Jaime took the other erect nipple into his mouth and held it between his teeth, nipping it just hard enough that she was unable to stifle another gasp. He drew her small breast into his mouth and suckled at it as she arched into him and moaned, her leg rising higher to hook over his hip. Jaime pulled away from her slickened breast and asked her again, “How did he kiss you, my love? Was he gentle? Was he rough? When he took of you what I have wanted for so long, did he make you cry out?”

“Jaime,” Brienne panted, her head thrown back, “just shut up! I didn’t kiss him, and I did not suffer him to kiss me.”

Jaime leaned in and kissed the scars from the bear again, and then raised his hand to caress the puckered scar on her cheek, looking into her eyes and finally seeing there what he needed to see, that glimpse of her heart as she let the barriers around it waver. Their eyes locked for long seconds and Jaime continued to learn her face with his fingers. Brienne raised her own hands, cradling Jaime’s strong jaw, her thumbs stroking the scruffy hair of his beard as she tremulously traced his nose with her lips, lingering on the familiar break at the bridge, finally kissing the tip of it before brushing her mouth against the faded scars on his cheeks and his brow.

Jaime reached down and cupped her sex with his left hand, feeling the moisture through her smallclothes. “And here, Brienne, did he make you want him here? Did he make you this wet?” Jaime’s voice was low with desire, but still questioning, needing her answer.

“He did not try to make me wet,” she told him, “he could not have anyway, for I did not desire him.”

When Jaime asked his next question Brienne got the feeling he was dreading the answer, “Did he slip his fingers inside of you to see if you were ready?”

“He did not,” Brienne told him, and Jaime released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Are you more bothered by the thought of his fingers in me than his cock?” Brienne asked curiously.

“Wench, I am more than bothered by him touching you at all, but you already told me he had his cock inside you.” Jaime said in a low voice, trying for some control of his emotion, “But thinking of some man fumbling at you there with his fingers pains me more than thinking it was just a quick fuck.”  

Brienne thought about this for a couple of heartbeats, then confessed with a rueful smile “He did try to make himself wet for me, though.”

Jaime looked at her and raised his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t understand,” he told her with a quirk of his lips.

“He tried to anoint his cock with his spit before entering me.” Brienne said with an embarrassed laugh, “we barely spoke to one another, but for that I found my voice and let him know that he either wiped it off or finished in his own hand.” Brienne expected Jaime to laugh at that, but instead he wrapped both arms around her and held her.

“If I had only asked,” he said into her hair, “we could both have been spared you having to go through that.” He stepped back from her then and stooped to dip his fingers through the bath water. “Not as hot as it could be, but we can warm it up.” Jamie walked back over to the bed and stood watching Brienne next to the tub in only her smallclothes. She seemed more womanly now than then when he had first seen her at Harrenhal, but she had been a little younger then, seemingly barely out of girlhood. Time had given her more of a curve in her waist, a little more fullness in her breasts.

“Why are you over there?” Brienne asked, fighting the urge to cover herself.

Jaime took off his tunic and began to work on the laces of his breeches. “Wench, I have wanted you since Harrenhal, when you stood over me naked and dared me to mock you. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined you like this, about to get in a bath with me when I’m _not_ half dead? Take off those wet smallclothes and let me watch you get in the tub.” He pulled off his breeches then and his cock stood out hard in front of him.

Brienne had seen Jaime naked before, more than once. She had even seen him half hard when she helped him to dress after his faint in the Harrenhal baths. But seeing Jaime like this, as she had imagined him so many times, sent heat surging through her already heated core, making her dizzy. When Jaime wrapped his left hand around his cock and stroked it she closed her eyes briefly and felt her throat go dry. She watched him as he stroked, squeezing the thick head of his cock with his thumb and finger as he came to the top and then bringing his hand down to the base and back again.

“What are you doing?” Brienne asked in a strangled whisper.

“I’m watching you, and waiting for you to get in the bath,” he said with a little smirk.

“No, I mean…why?” Brienne took a deep breath to be able to go on. “Aren’t we..?” She gestured toward the bath, feeling swamped by the lust he had created in her.

“I told you, Wench, it’s just a bath. Now get in. We’ll have time for each other later, but I’ll never make it through a bath with you if I don’t do this first. Now _get in_.” Jaime continued to stroke himself, his breathing hard. “Tell me, Brienne, do you ever touch yourself and think of me?” he asked, looking at her intently.

Brienne slid her smallclothes off, turned and stepped into the tub, positioning herself against the far side where she could watch him. One hand strayed underwater and she rested her fingers upon the seam of her lips there. Jaime had his eyes closed, head back, his thick blond hair hanging against his shoulder blades, his neck corded with strain as he moved his hand faster and tighter up and down his straining cock. Brienne slipped two fingers into her folds, finding the swelling there and rubbing it. “Yes, Jaime,” she admitted, “Oh, yes, I think of you.” She moved her other hand to one nipple and pulled on it lightly. She wanted to throw her own head back and give in to the waves of passion threatening to overwhelm her, but she didn’t want to look away from Jaime. She watched as he came, her fingers moving faster between her legs as he called out her name and released his seed. She closed her own eyes and let her head fall back over the edge of the tub as she convulsed with her own completion. For several heartbeats she kept her eyes closed, chagrin and desire washing over her in turn, until she felt Jaime get in the bath. His eyes were as unfocused as hers must have been as he slid on top of her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as she opened her thighs to cradle him against her. His cock was still swollen, but no longer so rigid. His hair was damp on his forehead and she stroked it back.

Jaime choked back a little laugh and lifted his head to grin at her. “Wench, if not being able to be in you was that good I’m not sure I’ll survive it if we ever do fuck.”

Brienne took a startled breath. “If?”

“My lady, despite the loss of your maidenhead, your honor is still important. I will make no more bastards, and I will not risk my heart further until I have secured yours.”

Brienne bit her lip, and gave him a tremulous smile, but did not give him the words he needed.

“How did you manage to avoid getting a bastard in your belly when you so recklessly seduced a stranger?” Jaime asked her seriously, “You did avoid it, didn’t you?” he said, suddenly struck by a thought that made his blood run cold. “Brienne, how long ago did you lose your maidenhead? Are you carrying a child? Did you lose a child and that is why you have been so sad and distant?” Jaime sat back in the tub, his eyes wide with concern, “Gods, Brienne, is that what has happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger! Or am I?
> 
>  _Probably_ only one chapter to go. Now go take a cold shower (or a warm bath), but before you do that won't you please leave a comment?
> 
> Update 11/10 : Next chapter is nearly finished!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wench,” Jaime dared to ask, “do you regret it? I know your reasons, at least some of them, for bedding someone else, but afterwards did you wish you hadn’t?”
> 
> “Someone _else_ , Jaime?” Brienne said, “how can I have bedded someone else when there was no one before that?” She cocked her head at him, considering, “Or since.”
> 
>  
> 
> Still very much in Mature territory here, so take heed.

Jaime looked so stricken that Brienne almost wanted to comfort him, even though he assumed she was the one who needed it. “You really do take me for a fool, don’t you?” Brienne said instead, sitting up and drawing her knees up so she could wrap her arms around them. She and Jaime were on opposite sides of the tub facing each other with Jaime’s feet on either side of Brienne’s hips. “Do you really think I did this so hastily that I didn’t consider that risk? There are times in the course of a moon that a woman is at least risk for conceiving a child. There is also Moon Tea, which I’m sure you must know.”

Jaime looked relieved but still troubled. “Your plan to lose your maidenhead was detailed enough to involve getting Moon Tea?”

“And to know the timing of my courses; it’s not a thing I normally pay a lot of attention to, Jaime.”  
“How did you manage to get any Moon Tea when you have been traveling?”

Brienne blushed a little at his question. “I had to find an apothecary and buy it. In truth having to ask for it made me more nervous than what it was for.” Brienne laughed a little at the memory.

“Why would that be worse than seducing a stranger in a tavern?” Jaime swallowed, feeling anger and regret for what Brienne had done, “How is that worse than letting a man you didn’t know between your legs?”

“I had to _talk_ to the apothecary, in daylight, and to have him look upon me in judgment. He probably wondered why such an ugly woman even needed Moon Tea.” Brienne turned her head and did not meet Jaime’s eyes, not wanting to see his pity there, his acknowledgement of the truth of her words.

“Wench,” Jaime said, leaning forward and using his stump to caress back the hair Brienne had shrugged over her face, “I never want to hear you say that of yourself again. _Never_. In my eyes you have long been fair to look upon, and seeing you ride in tonight was the loveliest thing I think I shall ever see.” Jaime sat back again, as Brienne appeared unwilling to be moved by his fervor. He tried to be more pragmatic as he pressed her for information. “So, you learned your courses, and you got the Moon Tea. How did you come to pick this man who by your own account was no prize to take to bed? Did you put as much planning into that as you did into making sure his seed would not quicken in your womb? What made you choose him?”

“He really was just a man in a tavern, Jaime.” Brienne said impassively, as though recounting how she might have picked out apples at a roadside stand, “I am not impulsive, as you know, and men being what they are I knew it would not be difficult to find one. I waited and watched the men come and go, and I ruled out any that looked overly cruel or filthy. I wanted no one else to remember me, so I watched for someone who was also alone, like me. I wanted someone well in his cups, someone beyond questioning that I was anything other than a woman in want of a man between her thighs.” Brienne could see that Jaime was clenching his jaw, sitting rigid and controlled across from her, his eyes piercing. “It was even easier than I had supposed, to go sit across from the man I had settled on and place my hand on his knee under the table. As I said, we barely spoke. He followed me to my room, and when he awoke and I was gone I’m sure he was merely relieved that I had not stolen his purse in the night.”

“By the seven, Brienne,” Jaime said, his expression like thunder, “I _know_ you. You blush over everything. You could not have been so indifferent as you appear. Did you not feel exposed? Used?”

“I used _him_ , Jaime; there is a difference, even if he did not know it. As for feeling exposed, it was far more agonizing to be examined by Qyburn at Harrenhal. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? To have that old man put his face between my legs and poke at me to see if my maidenhead was still intact so that the Bloody Mummers could later rape me without fear of catching something? Maybe if I _hadn’t_ been a maiden I would only have had to deal with the bear.” Brienne smiled a little, “Do you know how nasty Hoat’s ear tasted? Blech.” Jaime smiled back a little, knowing that when Brienne had bitten off most of Hoat’s ear she had sealed his ultimately gruesome end. 

“Did you ever get the man’s name?” Jaime asked, imagining tracking the man down and finding an excuse to kill him. 

“He tried to tell me, but I stopped him.” 

Jaime was torn between drawing out all of the details from Brienne and being sickened by the knowledge of them. He was relieved that she had taken care not to become pregnant, but that was about the only thing he felt relieved about. He decided it was time to change the subject, if indirectly, back to them.

“Did you think of me when you were with him?” he tried, leaning forward.

“Ew, Jaime!” Brienne said aghast, “Why would I want to do that?”

Jaime looked a little hurt. “You did admit that you think of me when you touch yourself. I know you were thinking of me when I watched you in the bath,” he said, and felt himself start to harden at the memory of her abandon as she peaked.

“I meant that I would not mix how I think about you with that night. It wasn't about desire, Jaime.” She said, a bit embarrassed and also a bit aroused, remembering all they had done earlier. She could see the heat in Jaime’s eyes, and knew that it was also kindling in her own.

“So you do desire me,” Jaime said, biting his bottom lip, managing to look both boyish and seductive. Brienne rolled her eyes and tried not to smile. Jaime hooked his arms around her calves and pulled her legs away from her chest, sliding her back down into the tub and exposing her lean torso and her breasts. She caught herself by setting her arms behind her, hands flat on the tub’s bottom. Jaime took a moment to admire her figure before reaching out and running his hand from the dip of her neck down between her ribs, over the small, firm swell of her belly and finally resting his fingers lightly on the thatch of hair between her legs. He watched her face intently; seeing her half-lidded eyes and enjoying her sharp intake of breath as he gently pushed his thumb between her folds and set it unerringly on the kernel of heat there. He gave it a little gentle pressure but did not rub against it. Brienne froze, trying hard not to seek the friction she wanted, watching him a little defiantly as he played this game with her. He pressed a little harder on her nerves there and her legs clenched around him involuntarily. She pushed herself away from him so that her legs were only a little bent over his. She leaned forward and boldly wrapped one hand around his cock and held it there, watching his face, enjoying seeing the apple of his throat bob as he swallowed. He reached for her other hand and placed it on his cock as well, and smirked for having called her bluff. She laughed.  
“It is good to spar with you again, Ser,” she said coyly, “though the weapons have changed, I do appear to have the upper hand.” 

Jaime laughed loudly at her unexpected sass. He leaned in close to her face and whispered, “I yield.” Before giving her a gentle kiss. When he pulled away from her face she looked into the water at her hands around his cock.  Giving in to her curiosity she cupped his balls with one hand and ran her thumb up the vein on the underside of his shaft with the other, pausing to stroke the head of his cock and use her fingers to slowly learn its contours. Jaime hissed out a breath and shuddered a little. “I said: _I yield_. You are pressing your advantage, my lady.”

“Am I?” Brienne asked, and wrapped her hand tightly around his cock and brought her other hand up to caress his jaw. Jaime turned his head and took her finger in his mouth and sucked on it, watching as her pupils dilated. She moved her other hand over his muscular stomach and up into the lion’s mane on his chest. She pushed both hands through his hair close to his scalp and tugged at the roots as she kissed him passionately. He moaned and urged her back so that she was pressed against the back of the tub again and he moved atop her as he had done earlier. Their bodies were pressed together but not joined, with her legs wrapped around his hips. He ran the tip of his tongue down Brienne’s neck as she arched her body against him, her breasts rubbing against the golden hair of his chest. Jaime felt the danger of taking their passion too far as both gave in to the need for contact and rubbed against each other, moaning and sighing. He put his hand and his stump under Brienne’s back, holding her out of the water as his mouth found her swollen nipples and he suckled one and then the other of her breasts as she panted out his name. He pulled her upright and they moved their bodies a little apart, arms on each other’s shoulders, heads together as both tried to steady their breath.

“Wench,” Jaime groaned against Brienne’s jaw.

“Kingslayer,” she sighed, and Jaime knew from the way she uttered it that it was not an insult but an endearment. 

“The water is getting cold,” Jaime finally managed to say, “and we have not really even bathed.” Brienne opened her eyes to look at him, and smiled. It was a smile full of joy, a smile that transformed her face. It had been a long time since he had seen that smile, and he vowed he would find a way to keep her from losing it again, if he could.

He reached down and picked up the ball of soap, dunking it under the water to wet it. Lacking a right hand he could not rub it to make lather, so he began to run it over Brienne, using the friction of her body to make a creamy foam. When he had her generously coated with soap he used his hand and stump to rub the lather all over her. She giggled as he lathered under her arms and tickled her slippery sides and hummed as he coated her breasts with slick soap, laughing a little as he spent far too much time making sure they were well covered, pausing only to roll her nipples between his fingers and make her shiver with pleasure. Even the coolness of the water did not dampen their ardor as he massaged the soap all over, up and down her legs, the insides of her thighs and even between her toes. He wanted to wash her hair as well, but wasn’t sure how to get it wet enough. He reached over to the nightstand and picked up her wine in his slippery fingers. 

“Here, drink this; I need your cup.” He told her, and when she took it he picked up his own and took a long swallow. Not the ideal way to enjoy a Dornish Red, but at the moment it was perfect. Brienne took a ladylike sip. “No, you need to drink the whole thing before we freeze to death in this water.” He told her, and she obligingly drained her cup for him. He finished his and set it down to take hers. He dipped it in the tub and then poured the cool water over her head. Brienne spluttered indignantly. “Tell me you didn’t know that was coming, Wench,” he laughed at her. He dumped a couple more cupfuls over her head before rubbing the soap through her hair and massaging it in. Midway in his ministrations Brienne grabbed the soap from him and vigorously rubbed the dwindling ball between her hands. She covered him as he had done for her, but he had to stop her when she spent too much time making his cock slippery under the water. She giggled at his lack of control and went for his hair, making sure to pour the water over his head slowly each time for maximum annoyance. As she massaged the soap into his hair he lunged forward and tried to hold on to her, but the soap that covered them both made his grasp slip and they slithered together in the tub, splashing water over the sides. Brienne managed to slide on top of Jaime and she dunked his soapy head back in the water, taking care not to drown him as she had almost done when he had been her prisoner near Maidenpool. She sat in his lap and used her fingers to sluice the soap from his hair, employing the cup to get the last of it out. He stopped resisting her and tried to push her back onto his thighs, denying the fervent wish of his cock to thrust up into her. She may have led a man to her bed, but she was still as naive about men as ever and probably had no idea how little restraint he had left or how easy it would be to plant his seed in her without even entering her fully. He was aching with need and even the cold water was not dampening his arousal. When she finished rinsing his hair he held her as she turned onto her back and let him rinse the soap off of her body and out of her hair using the cup. 

Brienne stepped from the tub first and wrapped a towel around herself. It was an uncommonly soft towel for such an out of the way inn and she was grateful for it. She held out the second towel for Jaime, but he took his time getting out of the bath, wanting to get his fill of admiring her as she stood and waited for him. The towel wasn't as brief as the ones at the Harrenhal baths had been, but her long legs, still pearled with droplets of water, were exposed and he took his time drinking in the sight of them. Eventually he rose from the bath and Brienne secured the other towel around his waist for him. 

Jaime handed Brienne his empty wine cup and dragged the nightstand back over to the bed. She followed and he refilled the cup. Brienne drank deeply of it and he put more wine in before drinking some himself. Both of them were a little drunk on the wine and their unconsummated desire, the heady feeling of having sparred together leaving them both feeling languorous. He set the cup down and unwrapped her towel with his left hand. He rubbed it over the few places she was still damp and then tossed it to the side. Brienne did the same for him, ending by rubbing it vigorously through his hair, making it stand out in golden spikes. All of this was done in a haze of silence, and when Jaime’s towel had been cast to the side he lifted the blanket for Brienne to get into bed. He refilled the cup and handed it to her before crawling in after her. 

Brienne lay on her side with the covers pulled up to her chest, suddenly modest despite how exposed she had been moments before. She took a careful sip of the wine, trying not to spill any. Once Jaime was settled facing her he took the cup and drank some, then handed it back. Between them they quickly emptied the cup and Jaime poured them another.

“Wench,” Jaime dared to ask, “do you regret it? I know your reasons, at least some of them, for bedding someone else, but afterwards did you wish you hadn’t?”

“Someone _else_ , Jaime?” Brienne said, “how can I have bedded someone else when there was no one before that?” She cocked her head at him, considering, “Or since.” She swallowed a mouthful of the wine, and offered him the cup. He took it and drank, then set it on the nightstand. 

“I meant someone other than me. It could have been me, Brienne, you said it could have. It should have been me.” He said seriously, slurring his words only a little, “Tell me you didn’t want it to be me.”  

Earlier in the evening Brienne might have demurred, might have re-stated her reasons why it hadn’t been him; that he hadn’t asked, that she couldn’t have offered, but drinking the potent wine on an empty stomach was having its effect on both of them and her logical reasons for rejecting her maidenhood were swallowed by the stronger desire to tell Jaime how she felt.

“I _did_ want it to be you, Jaime. Gods help me, I wanted you so badly that it was almost more than I could bear.” She looked up into his eyes as she shifted onto her back so she could reach up and stroke his wet hair,  “When we were together, though, I hadn’t yet decided that my maidenhood was something to cast away. That wouldn’t have been the way of it.”

“But you said before that if I had asked and taken it that you would have been well rid of it. You made it sound like it would have been nothing.” Jaime said, a hint of accusation in his voice.

“I _lied_ , Jaime.” She told him, tracing a little pattern on his muscular shoulder with her finger before looking back up at him. “It would have meant something to me. It would have been something of you, a memory to cherish when you left me to return to King’s Landing; when you returned to your life there, to Cersei, to your duties and your vows. I would have joyfully lain with you even it had only been that once. If you had asked, if you had wanted to.” 

“Do you think I could have left you after that?” Jaime asked her in a raw whisper.

“I would not have bound you to me just for taking my maidenhead.” 

“But Wench, I was already bound to you! You can’t believe I would still want Cersei, even if I wasn’t in love with you. But I was in love with you then, as I am now.”

Brienne shook her head at him, “Yet still we parted, Jaime. If you loved me as you say, I did not see it. I never thought I would look upon you again. For a long time my heart felt like a great gaping wound in my chest as I spent months pathetically longing for you, wandering the countryside and trying to remember what it was like to have a purpose in my life other than to grieve for what I couldn’t ever have. Our quest was done, my service to Lady Catelyn ended in the most hideous way imaginable. There was no one in the seven kingdoms I wanted to offer my fealty to. I have seen too much, been through too much, to believe there was still good in the world.” Brienne paused, unable to go on. “Wine?” she asked in a small voice. Jaime handed it to her, and she drained the cup, holding it out for more. Jaime filled it again. 

"A man does not jump unarmed into a bear pit for a woman he is not already half in love with," Jaime told her, "Nor does he follow a woman with the fresh marks of a noose around her neck into a certain trap. But more than that, you know me better than anyone. Almost from the beginning you could see past my outer shell to who I was inside. You saw me for the man I had not yet become. Brienne, you always knew my heart, sometimes better than I did myself. How did you not see your place there inside it?"

"And how could you not see that I am a woman whose heart has so many scars upon it that one more false hope might make it cease to beat at all? It was bad enough that I could not deny to myself how I felt about you; I would have been a fool to cherish hopes that you felt the same."

"It seems that I guarded my own heart too closely as well, then, even with my feelings for you so strong and sure. after Cersei..." Jaime struggled to explain, "after she betrayed me and threw my faithfulness back in my face, mocked me for a cripple and less than a man, I was too craven to say what I needed to say to you, to ask you the questions I needed to ask. When I returned to King's Landing I planned to send a raven to you on Tarth. There were things I needed to take care of before I could come to you there. Why didn’t return to Tarth? Your father still needs you, and I would have been able to find you there. You know that I tried to.”

“I meant to go back, eventually. That, too, was part of why I rid myself of my maidenhead. It was not something I wanted to offer to some man I didn’t know or care for, who would only wed me for my lands and my virginity.” Brienne stopped, and took another drink of the wine to shore up her courage, “I knew that if I couldn’t have you, I would never want anyone else.” Jaime gazed at her steadily as she continued. “If I must wed someday to get heirs for Tarth that man will have to take me without my maidenhead as well as be able to best me in battle.” Brienne smiled wryly, “As you can tell, I was not interested in bettering the chances that my father would be able to find me a husband.”

Jaime smiled at her explanation, then said in a more serious tone, “You have no idea how much I feared that I would never find you, Brienne. You have no idea how gutted I was when I finally did find you and you were not happy to see me.” Jaime told her. “Did you ever wonder why the Kingsguard was disbanded?”

“Of course I did. I know how important it was to you to restore it. I know you were anxious to return to your duties there as its commander.” 

“Not as anxious as you think.” Jaime told her with a shrug. “I had planned to go back to King’s Landing and provoke Cersei into relieving me of my duties on grounds of my being a cripple. She has threatened it enough times.” Brienne reached for Jaime’s face, seeking to comfort him, but he was not looking for pity. “But when I returned, the Kingsguard was all but dead anyway, and Cersei had filled the empty places with her lovers and unnatural men of Qyburn’s making. I flattered her into making it her own Queensguard, while at the same time making sure she would not suffer me to lead it.” Jaime watched Brienne for her reaction to his tale, but she seemed not to guess what his motive had been. There would be time to spell it out later, he thought. 

Jaime took the wine cup from Brienne’s unresisting grip and then moved so that his chest was over hers, bracing himself on his forearms as he looked down at her. “So you do love me, don’t you?” he said over the hopeful pounding of his heart.

Brienne raised her head and pressed her lips lightly to his, “Is that what you need to hear?” she said in fond exasperation, “I do love you; more fool me for telling you now, just when I thought I might have finally learned to live without you.” Jaime took a deep breath and gathered Brienne up in his arms, holding her so tightly that she feared for a second she wouldn’t be able to breathe. “Jaime?” she asked, as she snuggled her way even deeper into his arms.

“Hm, yes, Wench?”

Brienne butted his chest with her head, giggling a little, “You got me drunk.” 

“Yes, Wench, I got you.” And both of them drifted off to sleep wrapped up tight against the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But I swear this time there really is only one chapter left. Comments make me write faster...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Brienne hung her head, “I am a terrible daughter. I have always disappointed my father.” A single tear escaped from her eye and she dashed it away. “I should send a raven from the next rookery we pass, let him know that I live and will come as soon as I may.” She looked up at Jaime, “Thank you for going with me. I’d sooner face a wight than my father after what I’ve done.”_
> 
> _Jaime gave her a fond, lopsided grin, “Do you mean the not letting him know you were alive or the loss of your maidenhood?”_
> 
> I had planned on this being the last chapter, but there is so much more to this particular story that I am going to split it. I figured you all would rather have something to read now and then get another chapter next week, which will _probably_ be the last chapter of my planned two chapter fic.

During the night Jaime awoke with an ache in his head and a powerful need for water and a privy closet, not in that order. He pulled on his breeches and made his way down the stairs in the dark. He knew from the brief tour the innkeep had given him when he arrived that the privy was outside, not far from their well. He detoured through the storage room to borrow one of the buckets the boys had used to fill the bath. After his business in the privy he filled the bucket from the well, not an easy task one-handed, and lugged it up the stairs. When he entered the room again Brienne had awoken to find him gone and was sitting up in bed with her knees pulled up and the blankets wrapped around her shoulders.

“I feel awful,” she said mournfully, and let herself fall over on her side across the bed, looking up at him standing there in his half-laced breeches with a bucket in one hand. “But not as awful as you look,” she told him wonderingly. “Your hair, it looks… why, it looks like a thistle!” and she chuckled briefly before scrunching her forehead in pain. “Ugh, it hurts to laugh.”

Jaime grinned down at her and set the bucket down. He took their cup and filled it part way with water, swished it around and then dumped it in the bathtub before refilling it and handing it to her. “Drink this, or it will be even worse in the morning.” He told her. While she drank he ran his hand up into his hair and found that it was standing out in stiff-ish points. He had guessed that it might be, because hers was doing the same thing. Maybe washing each other’s hair with soap hadn’t been the best idea, but it had been fun. Brienne’s hair had grown over the months she had wandered and it was longer than his now. He pushed some of it back from her face and she looked over the cup at him with her amazing blue eyes, which were just a little bloodshot right then. When she had finished drinking Jaime filled the cup for himself and drank it in one long gulp and then pressed another on her. 

“More?” She asked plaintively.

“All of it.” He told her, and watched until she had drained it again. He drank another cup of water and was dipping it for her third when she held out a shaky hand.

“No, stop. I need a privy.” She told him, “Turn around.”

“Turn around?” he asked.

“I need to put my tunic on.” She announced with dignity.

“I agree, it would be cold and not entirely proper to go outside naked, my lady, but why would I need to turn around?”

Brienne blushed a little, remembering. “All the same Ser, would you hand me my tunic and look away?”

Jaime smirked at her and retrieved her tunic from where they had dropped it earlier and handed it over to her. She tried to pull it over her head without letting the blankets fall. She had her arms in the sleeves and her head covered when she let out a muffled little squeak. “S’wet!” she gasped and quickly pulled it back off, the blankets sliding down as well. She flung the half-wet tunic away from her and looked reproachfully at Jaime, who had not been able to stifle his laughter. The tunic had soaked up some of the water they had splashed out of the tub. “Gods, Jaime, I really need to go! This isn’t funny!”

“It is, actually.” He assured her, but he picked up his own tunic and held it out to her. She quickly shrugged into it and got out of the bed, swaying precariously. “Poor Wench,” Jaime said, not unsympathetically, “Still drunk and hung over at the same time.” Brienne headed unsteadily for the door and opened it. Jaime was right behind her and when they got to the stairs he held her around the waist with his right arm while steadying both of them by gripping the railing with his left hand. Brienne grabbed the railing on the other side and the pair lurched down together.

“You are _not_ coming in the privy with me.” Brienne told him when they walked out into the yard. 

“I assure you, my lady, I am just escorting you to your seat.” And he opened the door for her as though she were entering a grand hall. She smiled and shook her head at him and stepped within. Jaime waited for her and they had a little easier time going up the stairs and back to their room.

“My tunic suits you well, Brienne,” Jaime told her when they were back inside. She was only a little taller than Jaime, but her legs were longer in proportion to his. Jaime’s tunic showed off a good deal of them. “I like you in it.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Now, take it off and get back in bed. You need to drink more water or you’ll feel like a salted slug in the morning.”

“Ew, Jaime. A slug? Really?” She said, but quickly pulled off his tunic and dived back under the covers. 

Jaime filled the cup with water and handed it to her. “Trust me on this; I doubt you’ve ever had so much wine in one night before,” Jaime told her, taking back the cup after she drained it. He quaffed another cup himself before sliding his breeches off. He turned and saw Brienne watching him.

“I was just thinking about when you got in that bath with me at Harrenhal." she said very seriously, "I thought you looked half a god.” 

“Really? Half a god.” Jaime said, getting into the bed, “Only half, huh?”

“Yes, half a god and half a corpse.” 

Jaime laughed briefly, “I’m surprised I could look even a hundredth of a god, and that was only because you insisted that I had to live. I still felt like most of a corpse right then. Although I can admit now that when you rose up naked out of that water there were parts of me that still had plenty of life.”

“You’re making a jape, I know,” Brienne said with a yawn, “but it’s sweet of you to say.”

“You saw me after I fainted and you helped me to dress. I know you must remember that. Do you still think I am making a jape?”

“Oh. Oh, I never thought of it like that.” Brienne told him a little wonderingly.

“Says the woman who went into a tavern knowing a man would follow her to her bed at a touch on the knee.” Jaime teased.

“It was different and you know it. You’re Jaime Lannister, half-god, why would you ever want me? Especially then? I know to you I was just a ‘beast’ of a woman, which was the nicest of the names you had for me. You would have killed me if you could." Brienne smiled, "You did try to, as I recall.” 

“But you bested me then, didn’t you? I bet you couldn’t now.”

“You think not?” Brienne yawned again. “Well, I have only had trees to spar with as I traveled, but I think we would still make a fair match.”

“I had hoped you would spar with me tomorrow,” Jaime told her, “They have a pretty little meadow that we could use. We’ll see how rusty you are, and how much improved my left handed swordsmanship is.”

“Mm, that sounds fun, Jaime,” Brienne said, cuddling up to him, “but did you bring a tourney sword? I only carry the one.”

“I brought two, just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“In case you didn’t have one when you got here. I have missed crossing swords with you, Wench.”

“Jaime?” Brienne said, her eyes starting to close, “What if I hadn’t stopped at this inn? I might easily have ridden past it in the night.”

Jaime took a deep breath before answering, “I would have stayed awake watching for you. The Ashtree road does not divide for many leagues, so you would have had to pass this inn. But if you had not passed by here I would have still found you eventually. I was not going to lose your trail again.” Jaime told her, “Now get some sleep or you will regret it in the morning.”

Brienne barely heard him tell her to sleep as her eyes closed, imagining him at the window, waiting for her to pass by in the darkness. But it was she that watched, wandering through the dark searching for Jaime, calling his name. The place she and her horse journeyed through was unrecognizable, marked only by a shifting of shapes, indistinct and groundless. She and the horse seemed the only two creatures in the world, the horse’s hooves making no sound or impression and her calls for Jaime fading to silence as time stretched and changed until it was just Brienne walking alone. Then even she began to fade into the dark, dissolving, dispersing, becoming part of the darkness. Eventually a cloaked form coalesced in the nothingness, as solid and familiar to her as her own skin, and Jaime said “I’m right here. I’ve been right here, waiting,” and her spirit streamed back until she stood naked before him and as she stepped into his embrace he opened his cloak to envelop them both and she was home. 

A few hours later the inn’s roosters announced the coming dawn with their persistent crowing, and the raucous conversation of the ravens from their perches in the trees and nearby fen filled the air. Jaime and Brienne slept through both. Not long after that the sun rose and its rays crept through the window to lighten their room, and still they slept. All around them people and animals began to stir as the innkeeps began the days’ chores and their sons fed the squawking chickens and collected eggs and fed the horses and goats. Soon the other patrons of the inn rose and set about packing their gear in anticipation of a hearty breakfast and a quick departure. It was the smell of eggs and cured pork that finally drew the pair out of slumber. 

Brienne was the first to open her eyes, and for a beat she tried to place where she was. For the last couple of years she had seldom spent more than one night in the same place. For half a heartbeat she was back on quest with Jaime, his warm body beside her, sometimes with an arm draped over her waist, sometimes with her arm curled around him. The many months she had ridden alone might have been a long, lonely dream in that heartbeat before she remembered where they were on this morning. Jaime’s familiar breathing and the scent of his skin were a comfort she had never expected to know again. They had almost always shared a bed for warmth and safety on their quests for both Sansa and Arya, whether sleeping on the cold ground or on a ship or at an inn. This was different. They had never slept next to each other naked before, and they had never expressed their love for one another either, at least not out loud, not in any way that could not be reasoned away later. Brienne remembered her dream and the feeling of coming home when she walked into the protection of Jaime’s arms and his cloak. She chided herself gently for being a romantic fool, even with the evidence beside her. She was lying against Jaime’s broad back, her hand resting lightly on his hip under the covers. She gave in to the urge to stroke his flank lightly and found her desire for him flaring up bright and undeniable. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Hm, you’re awake, Brienne?” Jaime said, stretching his body languidly before turning over to face her. He kissed her nose and pulled her to him. She felt his arousal pressing against her thigh and tried to resist the urge to press herself closer to him, to feel that hardness rubbing against her. Wanting him was nothing new, but knowing what his cock felt like against her and  what it felt like when her hand was wrapped around it were intimacies she had never experienced before. She remembered his hand between her thighs the night before and felt her body responding almost as though he was touching her there now. Jaime was watching her face, a little half smile making the grooves bracketing his mouth deepen in a way that always made her heart race.

“I dreamed of you,” she told him.

“Hm, you did?” He let his smile widen, “were we naked?”

“I was,” she blushed, “you were wearing a cloak.”

“Just a cloak?” he asked, pulling her closer to him, feeling her heart keep time with her quickened breathing.

“Well, it was dark. I don’t know.” She gave in with a sigh and let her hips tilt against him. “You held your cloak open for me and then wrapped it around us.” She said absently, finding it difficult to concentrate.

“Did I?” he asked with interest, before lightly kissing her neck, “did I say anything? Did you?”

“Oh, um, I don’t think so,” she managed to gasp out as he moved his mouth to her collarbone and very gently sucked on her skin there. She put all of her willpower into not moaning out his name, trying very hard not to writhe against him as his hand and arms began to wander over her back and down to her arse. It had been one thing the night before when she had been half drunk on good wine, but she didn’t think her dignity would be helped by a display of how wanton he was making her feel. She took a deep, steadying breath and Jaime pulled back to look at her, to search her eyes. There really was no point in hiding from him, especially when his own eyes were so dark with feeling. Jaime held her gaze, not letting her look away as his hand slid down between her thighs and his finger parted her lips and slid down further than he had gone before, all the way to her entrance to feel the wetness there. Brienne clenched her thighs together involuntarily, surprised by his touch there. She bowed her head against his chest, holding herself as still as she could. 

“Are you nervous, my love?” he whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, I am not going any further.” And he slid his finger back up to the swollen nub of flesh he had teased the night before. Brienne trembled a little as he rested his finger there, his other fingers and thumb cupping her intimately. “You are little afraid, aren’t you?” he nuzzled her ear, “Just because you are no longer a maid it doesn’t mean you understand what it is to be known by a man, to truly feel what being loved is all about.”  
Brienne tried to let no sound escape her lips as she cringed against Jaime, feeling overwhelmed by his touch, his words, and, she admitted to herself, to a maidenly fear about her first time, even though it wouldn’t be. He had said he was going no further, and she was a little surprised to find herself a little crestfallen about that despite her anxiety. 

Jaime began to slowly move his finger. Brienne knew the touch of a finger there; it was something she did herself from time to time, as she had in the bath last night. When she did caress herself there it was Jaime that she thought of, imagining that it was him between her legs. Now that it actually was Jaime giving her this pleasure it felt different; she felt awkward and embarrassed to have him touching her in such an intimate place in the light of day. As he moved his finger more firmly against her she fought herself for control. Jaime could feel her resistance, but he could also feel her breath quicken and catch, could see her eyes flutter.

“It’s okay.” He told her softly, “It’s okay to trust me. Let me to do this for you. I want it to be me that gives you this, my love.” He nudged her with his nose and his lips until she raised her head, and he kissed her slowly, matching the rhythm he had created at her core. Brienne stopped thinking and let herself feel the passion that Jaime was drawing out of her. As her breathing sped up so did his finger and their kisses, until Brienne couldn't help writhing against him, kissing him with abandon. With the heat he created in her she was a flame flickering higher, throwing red and gold sparks against a velvet sky, higher and hotter until she was spent and gradually settled back down to smoldering embers, just a breath away from flaming up again. Jaime’s finger had slowed until it was barely moving on her sensitive nub, and Brienne drew away from his lips and met his eyes, finally at ease with what he had awoken in her, able to meet the intensity of his eyes without flinching. She thought he might have looked a little smug, but for once decided not to call him on it. She felt him move his finger back down toward her entrance again and gather some of the moisture there before slipping a second finger into her folds and caressing her gently, exploring all of her hidden places. She found herself floating with the back and forth motion of his hand and as she started to kindle again he moved his fingers back to circle and rub quickly at the source of her heat, until she cried out and arched with the intensity of her climax. Jaime withdrew his hand and pushed his fingers into her hair as he claimed her mouth and kissed her deeply until she came back to herself, still fluttering a little deep inside as she never had before. He held her for a long time as she drowsed against him, relaxing to the point of feeling quite boneless.

Eventually Jaime chuckled softly, and Brienne raised her head to look at him, propping her chin on his chest. “It seems my left hand _is_ good for something else. We had better dress and go down for breakfast, Wench, much as I’d like to spend the day making you unravel like that again and again.”

“Hm,” Brienne agreed. “can I do the same for you sometime? I mean, can you show me how?”

“Well, Wench, it works a little differently for men… ”

“No kidding?” Brienne asked sarcastically.

“What I mean is we can’t keep peaking like a woman can. Once we do it takes a while to be able to, uh, be ready again.” Jaime was beginning to feel a little flustered by the direction the conversation was taking, but his cock was certainly taking an interest. He looked down at himself and shook his head a little. “Much as I’d like to demonstrate we shouldn’t stay abed all day. I’m starving and I’m not going to let you wriggle out of sparring with me. You don’t mind staying at least one more night, do you?” He made himself get out of the bed and walk over to his saddle bags in one corner of the room. Brienne got up also and quickly untied his bags for him so he could root around in them for fresh clothes. He gave her a sidewise look and grinned at how familiar it felt to have her help without his asking. She was digging in her own bags and came up with clean smallclothes, worn, soft brown suede breeches, and a light blue tunic he remembered from before. She quickly donned all of her clothes, pulled on her boots and secured her long leather belt and then helped Jaime with the laces of his dark leather breeches and looping his belt around his hips over the tan and red tunic he wore.  Brienne gathered their discarded from the floor and tossed them over with their saddle bags while Jaime took a moment to fish the cup they had left in the bath out and to gather the towels they had cast aside, wiping up any water or other spills they had made. He left the towels in a pile by the tub and looked at Brienne. She looked back at him. They both began to laugh, and Brienne went back to her bags for a brush so that she could smooth their wild hair. As last, more than an hour after breakfast had been served and eaten by everyone else at the inn they descended to the dining room.

The dining room was almost deserted, except for the innkeep’s middle son, Rolf. He had clearly been posted to watch for the couple because he ran off to the kitchen as soon as he saw them on the stairs. Jenna soon came hurrying out, flushed and sweating from whatever housekeeping duties she had been attending to, but anxious to see to her important guests’ needs.

“A good morning to you, Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne,” she called cheerfully. Brienne glanced at Jaime; she hadn’t been aware the innkeep even knew who she was.  Jaime returned the greeting jovially and Brienne gave the woman a sober nod.  “I do hope you’re hungry! We’ve got fresh eggs and bacon and the new bread’s just this instant come from the ovens.” 

“I’m so hungry I could eat an aurochs,” Jaime told her, leading Brienne to their table of the night before. “I’m sure the Lady Brienne could manage two.” He smiled at Brienne, but she looked a little subdued and did not refute his jape as he had expected. He sat down across from her as Jenna set about fussing with their table, wiping its spotless wood surface with her apron and checking the small pot of salt that sat at the far edge.

“And how would you like your eggs?” she asked, looking at Brienne expectantly.

“Scrambled, please,” Brienne said briefly.

“Sun in a Cloud for me,” said Jaime, “runny as you please, and a cup of ale for me. Brienne?”

“Have you milk?” she asked Jenna.

“Will goat’s milk do, m’lady? “

“Yes. Thank you.” Brienne told her.

Before Jenna could rush off Jaime said “We’ll be staying on at least another night, good lady. If you have any more of that excellent wine we would be most happy.” He smiled at her charmingly.

“I’ll see what we have, Ser. I’m sure we can see you’re well taken care of; I might could send one of the lads to the next town if need be.”

“And one other thing, Jenna, my lady and I will be sparring later. Do you have a lad who might want to play squire for a day?”

“Och, Rolf would be so thrilled to squire for two of the finest fighters in the seven kingdoms. Bless you, Ser!”

She was so excited she forgot to curtsey and trotted off to the kitchens to get the meal ready.

Jaime reached across the table with his left hand and laid it palm up on the table, waiting for Brienne to take her hand from her lap to set it in his. Brienne warily put her right hand on his and he clasped it with his warm, strong fingers. Jaime could see now that something was troubling her, but he waited for her to voice it. 

“After tonight,” she started, then paused to search for what to say, “We’ll stay here tonight, Jaime, and then what will happen? Do we have plans beyond that? Now that you have found me will you ride with me a ways? I feel I should have spoken of it sooner, but beyond your finding me and… ” she gestured helplessly to their surroundings, finding it difficult to ask if their love meant they would not part again so soon. It was all much more complicated now that she had confessed to her feelings and he to his. 

“I thought I might travel with you to Tarth,” he was not smiling at her, though she could see it plainly there in his eyes, a hint of happy anticipation. 

_An adventure, then_ , thought Brienne, _we_ will _have some time together_. 

“Your father has missed you terribly, and had feared you dead.” He told her seriously.

Brienne hung her head, “I am a terrible daughter. I have always disappointed my father.” A single tear escaped from her eye and she dashed it away. “I should send a raven from the next rookery we pass, let him know that I live and will come as soon as I may.” She looked up at Jaime, “Thank you for going with me. I’d sooner face a wight than my father after what I’ve done.”

Jaime gave her a fond, lopsided grin, “Do you mean the not letting him know you were alive or the loss of your maidenhood?”

Brienne rolled her eyes, “Hopefully _that_ won’t come up unless he tries to arrange another betrothal. I am sure _you_ wouldn’t tell him!”

“Me?” Jaime looked a little secretive for some reason, but then he often did in Brienne’s eyes. “We will send a raven telling him that we’re coming. I sent him a raven a few weeks ago telling him I might have information about where you were. He sent back to wish me good speed in finding you.”

“You and my father have been exchanging ravens?”

“A few.” Jaime told her. “I look forward to meeting him in person. Ah, here comes our food!” he said, releasing her hand to clear space for the plates. Behind Jenna stood her son Rolf, bearing the ale and goat milk. He was beaming ear to ear and resembled a tall, skinny Jenna. Rolf’s mother introduced him, and Jaime told him where to find his and Brienne’s gear to have it ready in the meadow in a couple of hours. “We’ll let our food settle first,” he told Brienne.

When they were alone again they both set to eating hungrily, letting the food soak up the last after effects of the wine. None of the food was burnt, but after their fast of the night before it would have tasted wonderful even if it had been. When they were finished eating Jaime set a few silver stags on the table for the innkeep, a more than generous amount to cover such niceties as good wine and sweet-smelling candles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments keep me motivated! Speculation, what lines you liked, whether you wish you had your own personal Jaime Lannister, the most adorable man in Westeros...


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne looked into Jaime’s eyes and saw that this was no game he was playing with her; he meant to win, no matter what. His grin was fearsome and leonine and seductive; Brienne’s heart stuttered in her chest and she managed to back away from him and bring her sword out in front of her.

The meadow Jaime had spoken of earlier was a short stroll from the inn down a narrow goat-trod path. They walked hand in hand along the line of trees Brienne had ridden past the night before. The sparse leaves of maple, elm and ash trees rustled in the breeze. Jaime lifted some bushy laurel branches out of the way and they stooped to enter the clearing. The goat-cropped grass was dappled by sun shining through the foliage, and a few kiwi vines struggled to climb higher up the tree trunks so the goats couldn’t get their broad leaves but the sunlight could.  A squirrel chittered at them from the spreading branches of an elm and leapt lightly from branch to branch before disappearing from sight, still complaining. This time of day the goats had been corralled for milking, so they had the meadow to themselves. Jaime pulled Brienne into a kiss, their heights similar enough that they stood nearly nose to nose. Jaime pulled away to look up into Brienne’s eyes, which had picked up the brilliant blue of the sky. He had seldom seen them this bright and untroubled, and he was glad to know she looked forward to going home to Tarth with him at her side.

Jaime led them to an old tree at the edge of the clearing and pulled Brienne down to sit with him; the trunk of the tree was wide enough that they could both rest their backs against it. Brienne picked a maple leaf off the ground and twirled its stem between her fingers to make it spin side to side.

“It was nice of you to ask the boy to squire,” Brienne said, “even though between the two of us we armor ourselves fine.”

“Young Rolf? You should have seen his expression when he saw me ride up in my armor," Jaime laughed, "and then when he found out the Maid of Tar – I mean, _Lady_ _Brienne_ of Tarth, was also expected I could tell he would be grateful for the chance to squire for an afternoon and watch us spar.”

“Did he remind you of Pod?” Brienne asked, a little catch in her voice.

“Only a little. This lad has a family that loves him and expects much of him. We may as well give him a bit of an adventure to remember; he won’t find it himself like Pod did.”

“No, he probably won’t. I hope you are keeping him safe and adventure-free these days? Did his voice ever come all the way back?”

Jaime laughed, “Poor Pod, the other squires call him ‘Toad’ now for how he croaks when he speaks.”

“Maybe his voice is just changing?”

“It’s already changed in this last year; now he has a deeper croak. The maesters say with time and care the rasp in his voice may get better. Apparently being hanged can do some long-term damage to your throat.” Jaime said. “Anyway, he likes being called ‘Toad.’ I think it makes him feel like he belongs.” He grinned, thinking of how much Pod had grown since Brienne had seen him. “Addam Marbrand keeps him busy. Takes him everywhere.”

“I’m glad,” Brienne said, “I knew sending him with you would be safest, but I couldn’t help worrying for him.”

“You always did mother the boy. He has a girlfriend now,” Jaime said with a grin, watching Brienne, “she’s taller than him.”

“No!” Brienne laughed, “But he is young for a girlfriend, isn’t he? They’re just friends, surely.”

“In _their_ case, maybe.” Jaime allowed, leaning over to kiss Brienne.

Brienne blushed and tilted her head to look up into the leaves overhead, but a smile was tugging at her lips and she squeezed Jaime’s hand. 

“Are you looking forward to sparring?” Jaime asked her. “How long has it been since you’ve gone against anything more active than a tree?”

“A long while.” Brienne admitted, “There were two times when I was set upon by brigands, but both times I dispatched them so quickly that I could hardly count it as practice.”

Jaime looked at her in consternation. “You were attacked?”

“As I just said.” Brienne told him with unconcern.

“How many were there?” Jaime asked, his eyes wide.

“Just two the first time, after dark fell one night. Then five the next time, in broad daylight, but one of the five was gutted by someone in his own band during the attack. I think he had been waiting for the chance to get rid of that one and worried I wasn't good enough to do it myself.” Brienne grinned wickedly, “They were quite wrong. The ravens would have been dining on five either way.”

Jaime chuckled uneasily. Even he might have been worried about five at once, since his maiming anyway.

“This looks like good sparring ground,” Brienne noted, “lots of open space, but a few tricky places, too. Did you plan to tell me about that big dip in the ground over there?” she asked pointing.

Jaime looked over to where she was pointing. “Oh, thanks for pointing that out.” He told her, “I hadn’t noticed.” They smiled at each other and Jaime was leaning in to kiss her again when they heard a rustling in the laurels that announced Rolf had come into the meadow, half-dragging their gear and tourney swords. Brienne and Jaime went to meet him.  
    
Young Rolf turned out to be as much hindrance as help as the two armed up, but both were kind to him even as they surreptitiously re-did straps and adjusted plate behind him. Rolf had brought Jaime’s metal hand and Brienne helped Jaime to secure it before he put on his vambrace. 

Brienne finished arming first and began to look at the swords. Rolf had neglected to bring her old tourney sword, but both of the blunted blades Jaime had brought with him to the inn were there. Brienne picked them up one at a time, testing for balance and weight. For tourney swords she found them surprisingly well-crafted. Jaime watched her swinging a sword experimentally. Brienne happened to glance over and see him watching her intently. She laughed at his serious expression. 

“Do I get to choose my own, Ser?” she asked. 

“You may, but I would say the last sword I gave you was a very good choice on my part.”

“Would you like to choose one for me now, then?” she asked.

“I think you have already chosen the one I would have picked for you.” 

Brienne looked at him quizzically and shrugged. She picked up her oak shield and Rolf helped Jaime put his red and gold shield on his right arm. Both fighters donned their helms and Jaime picked up the remaining sword. They walked to the middle of the field, smiling in anticipation.

Jaime made the first move, swinging his sword overhand at Brienne’s head. She easily blocked it and parried with the edge of her blade as his return stroke swept down to her other side. Brienne stalked forward and Jaime fluidly moved back and to the side as they continued flailing at each other. They were moving easily, warming to the dance and the drumbeat of swords bashing against shields. They maneuvered back and forth with practiced grace as they became familiar with each other’s movements again, their feet always in motion in an intricate pattern of footwork unique to them.

Jenna and a couple of her other sons came to the meadow to stand at the edge with Rolf and watch them spar, but the fighters didn’t notice. 

The battle gathered momentum and the sound of steel slithering against steel rang out across the meadow, sun glinting from the blunted metal as it flashed through the air. Jaime had improved even more at wielding a sword left-handed and Brienne found herself on the defensive against his increasingly fast blows. She rallied with quicker and harder sword strikes herself. Their eyes locked again and again, trying to read each other’s intentions. Brienne’s expressive blue eyes glinted with a feral joy as her sword flew through the air, ringing against shield, sword, armor; holding ground, giving a little, pushing back, trying to gain more ground.

Jaime’s eyes were intent and watchful, alive with the challenge. He began to press harder still, pushing Brienne across the meadow step by step, his shield pushing her back even as his sword swung around it to hack against her legs and her hips, clanging against her helm, drawing gasps of exertion or pain from her. With a burst of strength Brienne pushed Jaime back over the ground he had just gained from her, hooking the edge of his shield with her own and wrenching it down and away from his body as she slashed at his chest. 

Jaime was grinning wildly as he fought and pushed back harder, battering her shield aside and almost throwing her off her feet under his furious attack. She was up before a knee could touch the ground, swinging her shield into his side even as her sword arced up to slash under his arm. He anticipated the blow and raised his shield high, setting the bottom lip of it over hers and yanking it down. He stepped in to swing at her undefended torso and she flung her shield down onto the grass, meeting his steel with her own as it came in to slash against her. She rammed her shoulder into his chest to drive him back and Jaime retreated just far enough to rid himself of his own shield. Brienne stalled her attack long enough to gasp for air and to let him pull his metal hand from the shield’s strap before she charged at him again. Jaime stepped around her charge to crack his sword against her back before she pivoted gracefully, their swords singing as they came together again and sparks flew off of them.  

Jaime pushed his attack even harder and Brienne found herself being backed into the trees that ringed the meadow. He closed in, trying to wedge a knee between hers to knock her down again when the fan plate of his poleyn hooked with her knee armor and they both went down in a heap of tangled metal onto exposed tree roots and blackberry vines. They continued to grapple on the ground, rolling, both trying to get a sword clear enough to strike. Brienne scrambled to her knees first, one gauntleted hand braced on the ground to heave herself upright when Jaime coiled and launched himself at her, knocking her back into the trees as the breath whooshed out of her lungs. He tried to keep his footing as the momentum of his charge carried him past her. He was only down for a half a heartbeat before he was crouched with his blade poised to strike, only to find Brienne already springing at him with her sword sweeping toward his head. Jaime leaned back and the steel flashed past his face. Brienne reversed direction, bringing the sword back to land a hard blow to his elbow. 

Jaime roared and leaped toward Brienne, sweeping his sword into the backs of her knees, drawing a yelp of pain as her legs buckled. Her sword didn’t waver as she fought him from the ground, blocking his fierce blows as she struggled to get back to her feet. She thrust her sword up and drove the blade against Jaime’s right arm where the hand was strapped to his stump. He groaned at the pain of steel against flesh, but did not give ground. Both were panting and grunting with exertion when Jaime stepped back to adjust his stance and Brienne seized the opening and rose to her feet again, favoring an ankle that had twisted when Jaime had felled her. Their blades came together again and their sword arms locked as they fought chest to chest in an intense embrace. 

Brienne looked into Jaime’s eyes and saw that this was no game he was playing with her; he meant to win, no matter what. His grin was fearsome and leonine and seductive; Brienne’s heart stuttered in her chest and she managed to back away from him and bring her sword out in front of her. Both heaved for air for precious seconds before Jaime was attacking again. His back was to the trees as he tried to drive her back to the middle of the meadow, but each blow rang against Brienne’s steel as she caught the blows and flung them back at him. She would not give in now, could not, even if she had wanted to. Their fight had become a live thing; a question they both needed the answer to.

Brienne could imagine the swordsman Jaime must have been before he lost his hand. Few could stand against him now, and she could see the fierce pride in his eyes along with the determination to best her. Her shoulders ached with the strain of holding his sword at bay, and pain bloomed in a dozen places where his blade had gotten past her. She ducked under his defenses, battering herself against him, bruising him with hard blows, but her strikes were getting weaker with fatigue and his seemed to be getting harder. She stepped back to try to catch a breath, a tiny respite from his driving attack, but he followed, sweeping his foot against her ankles and felling her hard before he pivoted back, kicking her sword from her hand and flinging himself on top of her, straddling her as she lay on her back. He pushed at her helm with his metal hand, pushing the visor up until her face was exposed, his sword leveled so that the point was nearly touching her lips. 

“Yield!” he growled. Both of them were trembling with exertion and emotion, and Brienne looked defiantly up at Jaime, her eyes narrowing at him. “YIELD!” he roared, and Brienne began to smile even as her eyes became bright with unshed tears. 

“I yield.” She said softly, and Jaime let out the breath he had been holding and lowered his sword, staring down at her with just a hint of a smile. 

Jenna and her sons had stood transfixed on the sidelines, amazed by the vicious battle the two had fought. Now, seeing Brienne laid out on the ground unmoving and Jaime trying to stand on shaky legs so he could get off of her, Jenna began to run onto the field, calling, “M’lady! Oh, by the Gods, Ser Jaime, is she okay?” 

Jaime reached down with his left hand to help Brienne to her feet and she was already standing by the time Jenna panted up to them. Brienne looked at her distressed expression and smiled “Your pardon if we frightened you my lady,” Brienne said, not looking away from Jaime’s eyes, “I was just chastising my husband.” 

Jaime guffawed, remembering what he had told the Bloody Mummers when they had caught them fighting so long ago. Brienne had nearly drowned him in a stream and was clearly getting the better of him: _I was just chastising my wife,_ he had said.

Jenna was glad to see that Brienne was fine, but concern still etched her features as she watched them remove their helms. A trickle of blood ran down from Jaime’s hairline and Brienne was trying not to put weight on her ankle. Jaime turned to Jenna, his eyes shining in triumph and said, “Were you able to get your village septon to come, Jenna? I think we have need of one.” At Jenna’s affirmative nod he said, “Bring him out here, please, and would you be so good as to bring my red cloak as well?”

Jenna might have said something before she hurried off to take care of Jaime’s requests, but neither he nor Brienne heard it as their lips met in a fierce kiss that neither was willing to break for long moments. 

Jenna had taken her sons with her when she had run back toward the inn, so between them Jaime and Brienne stripped off their own armor and Jaime’s metal hand. Both stood in the chilly afternoon air, their clothes drenched with sweat, their hair dripping with it. 

“A septon, Jaime? Are we to marry right away then? My father –“

“Has already given his consent, Wench. He gave it to me a long time ago when I first asked him for your hand, and confirmed it again when I told him I might know where you were. Of course, that consent was dependent on me besting you in battle.” Jaime ran his hand over Brienne’s wet hair, “If it’s okay with you we’ll have another ceremony on Tarth, for your father’s sake, but I will not wait any longer to wed you. I have already waited much longer than I should have,” he leaned in to place the gentlest of kisses on her lips before gathering her into his arms. They were still holding each other when Jenna arrived with the Septon, her husband, and all five of her sons. 

“He told me the more witnesses the better, Ser,” she told Jaime, nodding toward the elderly septon, “being that this is a bit irregular and all.”

 Jaime nodded and thanked the septon for coming. The whole party walked to a patch of the meadow where the lowering sun still shone. The white haired septon stood facing the couple as the innkeep and his family ranged behind them. Jenna had thought to bring Brienne's blue cloak as well, and Brienne had gladly donned it to wear as her maiden cloak. No one need know the truth of that, and she truly did feel like a maiden about to marry her knight and true love. It felt like a dream, but even in dreams she thought, nothing as perfect as this could be imagined. 

 

Jaime looked at Brienne beside him, her sweaty hair drying in the sun, her sky-blue eyes wide and shining with happiness. He was pleased that Jenna had brought Brienne's cloak. He hadn't wanted to ask her to wear it, but his heart swelled to see her in it, to know that she thought of him as her one and only, forever. Her maidenhead didn't matter, just so long as he had her heart. His own heart was thudding in his chest with such joy he thought it must be loud enough to hear across the seven kingdoms.

The portly innkeep was smiling widely as he held Jaime's red cloak at the ready, its richly worked borders showed Lannister lions picked out in gold. The septon cleared his throat to begin the ceremony. Jaime and Brienne were holding hands and faced each other as the septon said the words and prayers for the simple ceremony performed in most villages. Jaime and Brienne responded as needed, never looking away from one another. The time came for Jaime to bring her under the protection of his cloak, and the innkeep came forward to hand him the red cloak and to gently remove Brienne’s, in the absence of her father. 

Jaime draped his cloak over her shoulders, positioning it with his left hand and stump, pausing to run his hand down her arm as he grinned at her. 

“My dream!” Brienne breathed quietly, wonder in her voice. Jaime smirked at her and whispered, “Just figured that out, did you?” Brienne blushed a little, but grinned back. 

The septon cleared his throat again, trying to re-gain their attention for the rest of the ceremony. “With this kiss… ” the septon prompted Brienne with a pointed look.

“Oh! With his kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband,” Brienne recited, her eyes dancing.

“With this kiss I pledge my love,” Jaime told her, leaning in close and murmuring against her lips “and take you for my lady and my wife,” and gave her a lingering kiss until the septon cleared his throat again, twice.

“Here in the sight of gods and men,” he proclaimed, “I do solemnly proclaim Ser Jaime of House Lannister and Brienne of House Tarth to be man and wife, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”

The innkeep and his family cheered and Brienne made a little leap at Jaime and flung her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her ribs and lifted her to spin her around in a circle. He led her back to the edge of the meadow with the rest of the party following. He stooped to lift up the sword Brienne had been using when they sparred. “My lady,” he handed it to her hilt first. She took it curiously. “The hilt,” Jaime told her. Brienne looked at the hilt and back up at Jaime questioningly, “look closely.”

Brienne examined the hilt and found the words etched in gold around the base “Lady Brienne of Lannister and Tarth,” and pursed her lips in amusement. “Pretty confident, were you?”

“I was,” he confirmed. “I’d have fought you until the end of time if I had to, but I’m glad we got this settled today, Wench."  
  
“And tonight is my wedding night, my lord husband.” Brienne said solemnly, her eyes sultry. She let them wander over Jaime briefly before giving him a slow smile that left him breathing harder.  

“Your chamber awaits, M’lord and lady,” Jenna said from behind them, and they could hear the smile in her voice. “I set a bell outside the door. You’re to ring it if you need anything. Otherwise, Ser, you and your lady wife’ll not be disturbed.” 

“Thank you, Jenna.” Jaime told her without looking away from Brienne. 

Jaime and Brienne turned to thank the Septon and the innkeep’s family before leaving the meadow to walk back to the inn alone. They climbed the stairs to their room and Jaime paused before the open door to look speculatively at Brienne. “Shall I carry you over the threshold, my love?” he asked.

“I don’t think you could, Jaime.” She laughed.

Jaime ducked down and placed his shoulder against her waist and before she thought to stop him he had her in a firm hold over his shoulder and she laughed as he staggered in, kicked the door shut and dumped her unceremoniously on her back across the bed. “Gods, Wench,” he gasped, “next time we get married you’re carrying me!” and then he collapsed on the bed next to her. 

The last of the afternoon sun was leaching the colors from the room, but they could see that Jenna had left them amply provided with a selection of candles in various sizes, none of them made from beef tallow. The thickest of them was already burning and a long taper sat nearby so that the other candles could be lit. Jenna had set out a light meal of bread and cheese and small apples on a tray, along with two flagons of wine, a pitcher of water, and cups. 

Brienne reached over to trace her finger over the line of dried blood on Jaime’s forehead, “You fought bravely, Ser,” she told him.

“Like a lion,” he agreed, “though so did you; like a lioness. When did you realize what we were fighting for?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Brienne admitted, “but suddenly I did: I saw it in your eyes and I felt it with every stroke that you would not be denied a victory, so I fought all the harder. Much as I wanted you to win I couldn’t _let_ you.” She laughed and kissed his lips. She pressed her body against him, nudging one long leg between his, the hard muscle of her thigh rubbing against his groin. Jaime sighed and kissed her back, groaning as she pressed her belly against his rigid cock and rocked her hips against him. 

Much as he hated to stop her he got off of the bed and stood looking at her for a moment as she propped herself on an elbow, her eyes so dark with desire that his breath caught in his throat. 

He turned around to light a few of the candles before sitting down in the chair to remove his boots. Brienne sat up, suddenly realizing that she was still wearing hers. She scooted to the edge of the bed and took them off. Jaime stood up and she reached for his belt, unlooping it and letting it fall from his slim hips. 

Then she stood as well and he bent to kiss her neck as he began to pull her tunic up. She helped him to take it off and stood before him, her breasts bare and her nipples erect in the cool air. Brienne lifted Jaime’s tunic over his head and it had barely hit the floor before he had lowered his head to take her nipple between his lips, sucking at it, pulling her breast into his mouth, drawing moans from her throat as he suckled one breast and caressed the other. He released her and looked up into her unfocused eyes; her hands were in his hair, tugging lightly. He nipped the swollen nipple he had been suckling just enough to draw a whimper of pleasure from her before he took the other one into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it before kissing it and sucking on it. She tugged harder at his hair and he squeezed her other nipple between her fingers. 

She was rapidly losing her ability to stand upright and Jaime’s cock was aching against his breeches. Jaime leaned her back onto the bed and she helped him to undo her laces. He pulled her breeches and smallclothes off together and then kissed her thatch of thick blond hair, breathing in the heady musk of her arousal. Brienne did not let him linger there for long. She sat back up so that she could undo his laces and pull his breeches off of him, freeing his cock. She leaned forward and kissed the drop of moisture on the tip, running her long fingers lightly along its length. 

“Wench,” Jaime groaned, and stepped back a little. “I want this to be good for you, but I am already so roused that if you touch me much more it will be over before it begins.”  So Brienne kissed the hard muscles of his stomach and ran her hands up  his chest, following them with her lips, exploring. When her hands reached his shoulders he urged her gently onto her back again before leaning down to kiss a bruise that was blooming on her thigh. Searching with his lips and eyes he found other bruises from their fight and kissed them all gently. When Brienne realized what he was doing she began to seek out the bruises she had left on him and kissed them as well, ending with the cut on his temple. They took their time caressing and learning each other, their gentle caresses eventually turning to fevered exploration.

Jaime parted Brienne’s legs and ran his finger along her slit, watching her reaction as she closed her eyes and let her head fall back. He pushed a finger into her folds and gently brushed it against the swollen flesh there before moving it down through her moist lips to her entrance. He very slowly pushed his finger a little way inside of her slick opening before drawing it back out again. Brienne’s breathing became fast and shallow and her hands clutched at the bed sheets. Jaime lowered his head and pushed his tongue into her wet heat and flicked it against her nub, and she shifted a little back from him in surprise. He swirled his tongue around her engorged nub and sucked at it as he had done with her nipples and Brienne cried out as her hips bucked against him. Jaime kissed the insides of her thighs, rubbing his beard against the tender skin there. He slid two fingers to her entrance and pushed one deep inside, watching her all the while. He saw her hand lift and settle onto her breast to pinch her nipple as she raised her head and watched him. Jaime pushed his other finger inside of her also and then drew both fingers almost all the way out before pushing them back in more firmly and then repeating the motion as she wrapped both hands in the sheets again, arching her back off the bed as she gasped. He lowered his head back between her legs and resumed licking and sucking at her nub as he fucked her with his fingers. Brienne began to moan as she writhed against his hand and mouth, his name coming from her lips again and again until a long shudder took her and he felt her sheath contracting around his fingers as she climaxed with a cry that had his cock hardening more than he would have thought possible.

Jaime moved onto the bed with her and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her deeply, the taste and scent of her on his lips. He moved over her and she opened her thighs to him as they shifted together, Jamie's cock rubbing against her thatch and belly. Brienne reached down to wrap her hand around him, to let Jaime know she was ready for more. Jaime groaned low in his throat, his head back. 

"If you think you’re ready, I'll go slowly," he promised her, watching her eyes as he rubbed the head of his cock against her slick entrance. He pushed in a little and Brienne tensed at the feel of it. Jaime pulled out and then pushed a little further, calling on all of his self-control not to thrust as his excitement built. "Does it hurt at all, Wench?" He asked when Brienne winced as he pushed a little further into her. 

"It does, some." Brienne admitted. 

"Did it hurt the, um, the other time?" Jaime asked.

"No, not really." Brienne admitted and then said in a rush, "but I think...while I didn't...I mean, I didn't touch it with my hands, but, you feel different. There's more of you, and your cocks feels..." Brienne stopped, overcome by mortification.

"Oh," Jaime said, "so a lousy lover _and_ not very well endowed, huh? Poor Wench." Jaime chuckled, but there was a little strain behind it as well. "Do you want me to go slower?" He asked, starting to pull back.

"Keep going," Brienne gasped, her arousal rising as the feel of his cock's thick head inside of her sent her pulse racing. Jaime pushed further into her heat before pulling almost out again and then pushing harder into her tightness. Brienne gasped again and he pushed his cock into her deeper still, moaning loudly when he was entirely sheathed in her and they both stilled for a moment, taking in the feel of finally being joined, their hearts pounding. Jaime pulled out most of the way and then pushed slowly back in as Brienne's legs wrapped around his back and her hips rose to meet his next thrust and his next, entranced by the feel of his cock filling her, moving inside of her, by the ecstasy on his face as she watched him lose himself in their joining. Jaime began to thrust faster and harder as he started to lose control, finally throwing his head back, exhaling her name in reverence as he shot his seed into her. 

Breathing heavily he rested most of his weight on her, kissing her with abandon as the last tendrils of his climax rolled through him. Brienne cradled him between her thighs and stroked through his hair and down his back, her hands roaming over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms, sliding over his hips, rounding over his ass and pulling him against her, feeling overcome by the love and joy she felt.

Jaime rolled off of her, sliding out of her, and reached his hand down to slide his fingers through the wetness of his seed and her arousal and circle his thumb against the still swollen nub there, setting up a firm and fast rhythm that had her writhing and crying out as her lips latched onto his and she moaned into his mouth. She came hard, sparks flaming behind her closed eyes as Jaime brought her to her fall, finally slowing his thumb's motion as she quieted against him.

Their eyes met in the flickering candlelight and there were no more barriers between them, their love binding them to each other in the afterglow of their fight, their wedding, the joining of their bodies. Jamie had brought his hand up to run it through Brienne's hair when something caught his eye in the glowing light.

"Are you bleeding, my love?" He asked as he saw the fresh blood on his hand.

"I don't think so," Brienne murmured, embarrassed, "I'm pretty sure my moon blood was a couple of weeks ago."

Jaime dipped his hand back between her legs and brought it up to show her the blood glistening there. "Did you bleed before, when you lost your maidenhead?" He asked her.

"Well, no," she admitted, "but women who ride horses a lot often don't bleed their first time. Their maidenhead gets torn in riding. I assumed since I ride that this was true of me as well."

"Qyburn said you were still intact."

"What are you getting at, Jaime? So what if I didn't bleed the night I lost my maidenhead? Maybe I am bleeding now because, well, because it was more...everything, with you."

Jaime began to laugh, much to Brienne's annoyance. "My poor naive wench," he said, "you said I was bigger, but what did you really feel when this man put his cock in you?"

"Well, I felt some pressure against me, but as I said, he didn't feel like you do. Not as big and, um, not as hard? I don't know, Jaime! Just _different_."

“You felt my fingers in you, didn’t you?” Jaime asked.

“Of course I did. You know I did.” She said, blushing now. 

"Unless the wretched man was smaller than my finger you would have felt something, Brienne. I wonder if he entered you at all.”

“I did _see_ his cock, briefly, when he rubbed his spit on it: it was certainly larger than a finger.”

“And did he leave his seed in you?" Jaime asked around a teasing smile.

"I think so," Brienne said, sounding unsure, "I washed at the first stream I came to, and my thighs were sticky with it." Brienne furrowed her brow and thought for a moment and then groaned loudly. Jaime was grinning wickedly at her. "Can I do nothing right? I can't even manage to properly lose my maidenhead!"

"Yes, you can, and you did. To me." Jaime smiled down at her, and with sudden realization Brienne's eyes lit up and she smiled, too.

"I did, didn't I? Oh Jaime, I thought this day couldn't be more perfect, but I was wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So the original two chapter story ends with five long chapters. I hope you enjoyed it! Your comments would mean the world to me, long or short, big or small (haha), tell me what you thought. Thanks for reading along!
> 
> Undecided about an epilogue or sequel at this point. Also note that I re-wrote a little of the consummation after my first post of this.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore what would happen if Brienne was not still a maid, but if Jaime hadn't been her first lover. This story is unrelated to my other fic, Taking the Silver, except in the wondering about whether Brienne is still the Maid of Tarth. This explores the more angsty (but sexy) outcome of the question. Comments make my day!


End file.
